


In Another Reality

by Hannings



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Character Death In Dream, Crossing Timelines, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, M/M, Minor Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Minor My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Speculation, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannings/pseuds/Hannings
Summary: Caspar and Linhardt are stationed in Fort Merceus during Edelgard's war. Unbeknownst to them, they are on the losing side. Over the span of a year and half beginning in the winter of 1184, Linhardt attempts to solve the mysteries of Edelgard's obsession with crests, his own confusing prophetic dreams, and why he is stationed at Fort Merceus in the first place. Meanwhile, on the 30th of Harpstring Moon, 1186, Caspar grapples with whether to abandon his post and trust Linhardt's premonitions, or to stand his ground and carry out his promise to Hubert and Edelgard.A story told in two perspectives, jumping through time, Linhardt and Caspar struggle to find their way towards a reality where they will both survive during a war they will inevitably lose.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 67
Kudos: 65





	1. Harpstring Moon, 1186

Sunlight filtered through the windows of Linhardt’s room, bright and brittle. Caspar stared off onto the ceiling, barely concealed by the naked canopy of the bed. It was ornate once, before all the tapestries were stripped to provide blankets for the war effort. Not that Caspar cared. But he remembered when Linhardt first arrived in Guardian Moon last year. Linhardt had nearly cried at the sight of all the barren rooms.

_Agh_ , Caspar groaned. He scrunched his eyes and messed his hair with his hands. Why was he thinking about this?

The sudden movement elicited a soft groan from beside him. The bed itself had a feather mattress, unlike the straw mattress of their academy days. This made it especially difficult to not disturb the bed.

Slowly heaving himself up, Caspar was careful not to cause anymore movement in the bed. He looked over at Linhardt, sleeping soundly once more. His hair was a fright. Caspar reached out, almost stroking it. But something stopped him. A deep ache in his chest. He looked at his own hands, veins and tendons popping out. They were strong, capable hands. Hands he trusted. But in the middle of the war effort, he couldn’t help but feel…

_No, don’t think about that._

Swinging his legs out of bed, Caspar wanted to put as much distance between himself and Linhardt as he could; between the embodiment of peace, and a killing machine like himself. His weight leaving the bed caused the bundle of blankets to move, making another small, whimpering sound. For a moment, Caspar thought Linhardt was having another nightmare. When the sound didn’t continue, Caspar let out a breath.

Seeing no reason to get dressed, Caspar ambled to the bathroom in the nude. Despite it being Harpstring Moon, there was still a chill in Fort Merceus. Linhardt would have shivered, Caspar thought.

The servants at the fort already knew Caspar’s schedule. Up with the dawn, right after the dawn bell. Two buckets of hot water and one bucket of cold water were already waiting for him in the bathroom. He sat down in the wooden bath basin, adjusting the linen cloth inside it. Then he began his bath, pouring the hot water and using soap. It was relaxing to bathe in the morning. When his body was moving, training, marching, he felt alive. And he knew he existed. He felt the unbearable heat of the water, felt the way his skin flushed. The slight smell of mildew reminded him that he was here, in this moment, in the bath. It didn’t matter what happened before, or what happened next. He’s here now. And that was the only thing that ever mattered: that he’s here now.

Caspar was ready to dunk himself with cold water when he heard a soft shuffling sound behind him. The door to the bathroom creaked, and he twisted his head around to see Linhardt at the door. Caspar turned back, unable to meet his gaze.

_I should have been there_ , he thought. But it didn’t matter what he thought. If he could be silent, and say nothing, then perhaps Linhardt would wash his face, and be on his way.

More soft shuffling came from behind him. He heard the soft padding of bare feet on stone. Caspar didn’t look back, but he didn’t move to grab the cold water either. He heard an exhale from Linhardt with a hint of a quiver. Was he cold?

Then suddenly, a pair of legs were behind him, and a pair of cold hands were on his shoulders. Well, so much for the cold water to end his bath.

“I’ll get out.” Caspar said, as he felt Linhardt lower himself into the bath.

“Stay.”

Caspar stayed.

It was the first time in nearly two months that they’d touched each other. Aside from the accidental brush here and there, Linhardt and Caspar seemed to recoil from each other’s presence. Whenever their eyes met, neither of them could seem to hold the gaze for more than a second. They both knew why, but neither of them could seem to talk about it, at all.

Caspar stayed tense in the bath basin. Linhardt was similarly tense, almost pulling away, but forcing himself to stay. The easy intimacy between them was gone, and Caspar missed it. He ached for it. But he also viewed it with revulsion. Because how dare he? How dare he melt into the warmth of Linhardt’s embrace? How dare he live at all? When everything was at stake. They were at war, damnit!

“Caspar.”

Linhardt was unusually taciturn. Although, at this point, Caspar was used to their uneasy silence. He was used to the way Linhardt made no sound at all anymore. No exasperated sighs, nor contented hums. Linhardt was closed off from everyone. Everyone but his students, and his battalion. Caspar nearly laughed at the thought. Most of those people were dead.

“Something’s going to happen today.” Linhardt finally said. His voice reverberated against Caspar’s back. It was so deep, so comforting, to finally hear his voice in private, so close to him. “And I couldn’t…” Linhardt continued, “I couldn’t stand the thought of us not having,” he had to pause again. “Not having the chance to at least…” Linhardt trailed off.

“I know.” Caspar knew what he was trying to say. He didn’t want to admit it himself, but their mourning had gone on for far too long. It was time to move on.

Linhardt said nothing. He put his chin on Caspar’s shoulder, the sharp angle of it digging into his collarbone.

Caspar finally leaned back. Yes, they were both still alive. It didn’t matter what happened before. It didn’t matter what happened next. What mattered was they were both here, right now.

“You know,” Caspar began casually, “We’re getting reinforcements from the Empire today. General Stassen will be leading his platoon by midday. I might even join him for lunch!” Caspar tried to inject some of his usual energy into the sentence when he noticed Linhardt stiffen behind him. Goddess, it was good to speak to him again. Caspar nearly tumbled out all the thoughts of the past few weeks –his students’ progress, the idiocy of his battalion, his growth as a leader—before he noticed Linhardt’s head shaking behind him.

“No… I don’t think we will be getting reinforcements today.”

Caspar’s mind stopped for a moment. “Did Jeritza say something?”

“No. But I feel something’s amiss.”

“What?”

“Something doesn’t feel right. General Stassen never moves on such short notice.”

“And the emperor never retreats from battle.” Caspar retorted.

A sigh. But it was a sigh devoid of emotions. “No, I suppose not.”

“See? So there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Linhardt hummed thoughtfully behind him, falling silent. Then Caspar felt his arms –his pale, beautiful arms—wrap around his torso. It had been too long. No matter how much guilt Caspar held in his heart, he couldn’t pull away anymore. Just once, he wanted to pretend the war wasn’t happening. That it was just him and Linhardt, together, in this moment.

Suddenly, Linhardt stepped out of the basin, water dripping onto Caspar.

“Help me get dressed.” He said simply, as he padded to the door. Caspar stood as well, watching Linhardt wrap himself in a towel, his skin glowing from the heat of the bath.

Caspar couldn’t help but smile. He dunked the bucket of frigid water over his head, grinning earnestly. And he saw that Linhardt gave a soft smile in return as he opened the bathroom door.

It was like before. Perhaps, they were finally moving on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my fic! 
> 
> I did some research on how beds and baths worked in the Medieval Era, but it was just a Wiki search, so expect some inaccuracies!


	2. Ethereal Moon, 1184 [Two Years Ago]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of the timeskip in Linhardt's perspective has arrived! Be mindful this happens 2 years before the events of the previous chapter.

Linhardt sighed. How troublesome the war was. Hubert had requested his presence to his office, that moody little room tucked away in the palace. Could Linhardt even find it? Hubert should have given him a map.

The last two years of the war Linhardt had spent in the libraries of Enbarr, doing research on crests at the invitation of the emperor. Every few months, Edelgard would come and check on his work, her eyebrows furrowing at his research, struggling to understand. And each time Edelgard came to visit him, she would shake her head disapprovingly, a silent nudge to change the course of his research. By 1184, Linhardt had made at least 3 major pivots in his research. He began with the genealogy of crests, then switched to how crests affected an individual’s personality after many nudges, and finally settled on the health impacts of crests, which was where Edelgard left him. Now, perhaps Hubert was taking issue with his research.

After some wandering from the library at Enbarr, Linhardt finally found his way to Hubert’s office. Just as he thought, it was tucked away in a little corner, barely noticeable, close to the emperor’s office.

Linhardt rapped on the rich, dark wood. Barely a second passed before Hubert’s face appeared before him, staring down at him.

“Come in.”

Linhardt suppressed a yawn. Nothing was more exhausting than speaking to Hubert. The man was always on his case.

“Am I boring you?”

“No… I just don’t particularly want to be here.”

A dark chuckle escaped from the older man’s throat. “You should be happy. I’m about to give you good news.”

“Oh? Has Edelgard finally given up on surveilling my research? If you’re about to tell me that you’ll be picking up the slack, that would be bad news, not good.”

“No.” Hubert crossed his arms. “You’re going to Fort Merceus to continue your research. You will also be instructing field medics and mages there. It is Lady Edelgard’s wish.” Hubert said the last sentence as though it were a threat.

Linhardt yawned again. “Really? How is that good news?”

“I thought it would be obvious.” Hubert poured himself a glass of water, pointedly ignoring the other empty glass on his table. “Caspar is stationed there.”

Linhardt’s pulse quickened. He questioned it, and studied it, saying nothing.

“I thought a reunion between old friends would be… welcome news.” Hubert put his glass down without taking a sip, apparently only pouring himself a drink to show how little he cared of Linhardt’s presence.

“Not really. Caspar and I send letters weekly. Moving closer to him would just be a nuisance to me.” Linhardt had become a good liar by now, sometimes even to himself. It was no good for research, he knew, but it was hard to truly examine the knot in his stomach in the presence of Hubert. Too many variables.

“Hmm.” Hubert seemed thoughtful. Then he turned to begin arranging the already neat stacks of papers on his table. When neither man spoke, Hubert rumbled, “You can be on your way now. A carriage will take you there in two days time.”

“Two days? I need at least a week to sort out everything I need!”

Hubert glowered at him and was about to speak when another knock came at the door and was swiftly opened.

“Hubert! I have just arrived in the capital—”

The ginger-haired man’s voice faltered, seeing Linhardt in the room. Linhardt couldn’t help but smile smugly at himself. While Linhardt and Ferdinand were both carrying on the responsibilities of their households in the years directly after Edelgard started the war, they had somewhat of a casual relationship. Ferdinand would stop by Linhardt’s apartment in Enbarr after his visits to the palace, and the two would engage in a bit of an elicit affair before Ferdinand left for his territory in Aegir. Linhardt always wondered why Ferdinand would begin his visits so glumly, and it became obvious now. The man was smitten with Hubert.

Hubert huffed, seeing Ferdinand. “Why must you insist on entering before any response was given?”

“I am sorry, Hubert. It will not happen again.” Ferdinand turned to Linhardt. “Hello, Linhardt. I must say, it is a pleasure to be seeing you again.” He emphasized “pleasure” far too much.

Linhardt yawned, not interested in playing this game. “Likewise. Hubert? My research?”

“Very well. I will have some of the best crest scholars in Enbarr assist you with your task.” A pause. “And you have two weeks to organize your belongings.”

Well, he seemed to be in a hurry to usher out Linhardt. Having his future secured, Linhardt couldn’t help but play the game, just a little. “I’m going to Fort Merceus, Ferdinand. Will I be seeing you there?”

Ferdinand stiffened, and Linhardt had to hold back a laugh. What an odd specimen. Despite starting this little game, Ferdinand seemed quite unable to continue.

He watched as Hubert poured a glass of water for Ferdinand, giving him a quizzical look.

Linhardt suppressed a chuckle and left for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some weird ships going on... 
> 
> Also Hubert is a lovable asshole.


	3. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Caspar

Linhardt was at the vanity, having already mostly dressed himself from the waist down. Not noticing he was being observed, he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. The sight was endearing, Caspar thought. Despite the water dripping down his body, Caspar felt the chill in the air with relish. That’s what he loved the most about a cold bucket of water after a bath, it made everything feel so warm!

He leaned down over Linhardt to use the mirror, mussing at his own hair until it tumbled into an acceptable shape. Linhardt sighed beneath him, and for the first time in a long time, Caspar heard a hint of exasperation.

“Oh! Sorry Lin.” Caspar chuckled a little too happily. “Let me just—” He took his towel to soak up some of the water that had dripped onto Linhardt’s shirt.

Linhardt grumbled. “You’re just making this worse, Caspar.”

“O-oh. Am I?”

“Yes.” Linhardt looked at Caspar through the mirror, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Caspar grinned at that, their easy intimacy back. It was a relief to finally start moving on. It didn’t matter what happened before, it didn’t matter what happened next. If he kept reminding himself of that, if he kept living in the moment, he’ll be okay.

Linhardt handed Caspar his brush, and Caspar began brushing his hair. He had serious bedhead, likely because he bathed at night and slept in his damp hair. Caspar had to brush his hair in clumps, careful to hold the hair tightly so it wouldn’t hurt Linhardt when he teased out all the kinks. It was difficult to not admire Linhardt’s hair, even after all this time. It was luscious and beautiful, a colour that reminded Caspar of the dark groves surrounding his father’s personal estate.

While Caspar struggled with Linhardt’s hair, the man in question was applying ointment under his eyes. A pang shot through Caspar’s chest. Linhardt had always gotten enough sleep, but the war had gotten in the way of that. He knew Linhardt’s comings and goings, despite him trying to hide it. He woke up right after Caspar most mornings, but he would not sleep until far past the midnight chime. It was beginning to show on his face. His porcelain skin bore dark shadows under his eyes.

After putting on the translucent ointment, Linhardt dabbed a powder that was as pale as his skin using the tip of his ring finger. Caspar watched, eyes softening as Linhardt’s face slowly transformed. He was finally taking on the glow that Caspar was so used to seeing. It pained him to see his friend change like this. It pained him that he had to do anything at all just to look like himself again.

Finally finished with his battle against hair, Caspar began speaking.

“Ah… I can’t wait for reinforcements to come in! My troops are idiots!”

“Hmm?”

“We were doing drills for onslaught, and those kids!” Caspar barked out a laugh. “They ran right though Jeritza and his battalion! They said they were anticipating them to dodge!” Caspar had to laugh again. “I told them, ‘You just saved ‘em the trouble!’”

Linhardt smiled to himself.

Caspar had to rally. They had finally taken a step forward. Linhardt had taken a step forward. He wasn’t going to let him down now, when things were finally turning up. “But honestly, I’d love to get back on the front lines with these guys. They’re good kids. They don’t have my fighting spirit, but they’re good kids.”

Linhardt’s eyes seemed to be drifting far away. Was this boring? Should Caspar ask about Linhardt’s students?

“Let’s run away.”

“Huh?” Caspar stopped applying oil to Linhardt’s hair.

“Let’s leave Merceus.”

“Uhh… Lin? Are you okay? I mean, I know you hate fighting and all—”

“Something is going to happen today, and we need to leave.”

Caspar wiped his hands on his towel and knelt beside Linhardt, looking at him. “Lin… We can’t leave. You know why.”

“I know. But I can’t shake this feeling. Everything is wrong. I almost feel as though, we don’t even belong here.”

“Lin, not this again…”

“Caspar, please. We can go to my father’s estate in Hevring, then board a ship to Brigid.”

Caspar looked at Linhardt, then returned to his work oiling Linhardt’s hair. He began forming the bun that Linhardt wore his hair in. His mind was going blank. He couldn’t tell if he was on the brink of anger or reeling from a terrifying memory.

The best thing to do, was just to keep moving.

“Pass me the ribbon.”

Linhardt didn’t move.

“Pass me the ribbon, Lin.”

Linhardt looked at Caspar with an expression he’d never seen before. An anger burst through Caspar.

“Pass me the ribbon!” His voice tore through his throat.

Linhardt sat there, frozen. The man didn’t even flinch.

Caspar grabbed it from his hands. They were trembling again.

“We’re not going anywhere. Ferdinand,” Caspar steadied himself, “Ferdinand won’t die in vain.”

“We would all die in vain.”

“You think I don’t know that? Every time I step on a battlefield, I know it could be my last.”

Tears were running down Linhardt’s face, spoiling the powder he so carefully applied.

“We gotta keep going, Lin.” He bound Linhardt’s bun using the ribbon that he’d given him so many years ago.

Linhardt nodded.

Caspar was glad he understood. Linhardt shied away from battle when he could but shying away from their post would brand them as traitors at best, for execution at worst. Edelgard had made this exceedingly clear. “I won’t let you get hurt.” Caspar’s voice broke as he said this. “I won’t, okay Lin?”

Linhardt nodded, brushing away his own tears.

Sothis, when had Caspar become so much like his father? The brute strength, the forceful voice. He had left no room for discussion.

There wasn’t any room for discussion.

Linhardt stood and reached for his vest, hiding any emotion on his face. Caspar’s heart ached, seeing him like that. Linhardt had always been honest, and it felt wrong to see him with a mask. He felt like a deep gash opened from his stomach to his chest.

“Lin…” He held the taller man’s arms, pulling him back. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Linhardt was stiff in his embrace. “If you’re intent on staying, then I will too. Perhaps we’ll defy the odds. Perhaps we’ll survive to the end of this war.” He began to melt slowly, leaning back to press his cheek against Caspar’s.

“And we’ll see Brigid, and Dagda…”

“And Almyra, and Sreng.” Linhardt paused. “Promise me you won’t be too reckless.”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Linhardt would be quite vain. Out of all the male students in FE3H, he probably dresses the most fancy post-timeskip. Hence why he has ointments and powders and oils. Nothing wrong with being vain! 22 is around that age when you really gotta start taking care of your skin.


	4. Guardian Moon, 1184

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt travels to Fort Merceus

A chill was in the air, and the carriage didn’t do much good at keeping the cold out. In fact, Linhardt swore the gaps between door were making the drafts worse. Adrestia was normally not so cold, but at this time of year, it was to be expected. It was especially bad since the carriages had left before dawn, so Linhardt had barely any time to dress appropriately. Linhardt shivered into his light cape. He always forgot just how cold he got. And being cold made him so sleepy…

Before he knew it, his carriage was arriving at Fort Merceus. It was a formidable presence, situated on the top of a craggy hill, or perhaps a small mountain. He recalled fondly the many summers he and Caspar had spent at the fort. It was imposing and oh-so complicated. The inside of the fort was like an impossible labyrinth, where a single turn could render them lost forever. At least, that’s what they told themselves when they were young. They would play adventurers, with Caspar leading the way, and Linhardt following, pretending he wasn’t completely enraptured by all the tapestries and paintings hung around the fort.

The gates of Merceus opened before him, and he was greeted with the familiar sight of people at the markets, sandstone coloured buildings peering down at him, and the clopping of hooves on cobblestone roads. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, the air seemed to be different in Merceus. It was sweeter somehow. And warmer. Even the draft that was bothering him nonstop for the whole ride seemed to have disappeared. It also helped that it was mid afternoon, instead of the crack of dawn.

He settled into his seat as the carriage made its long winding way up to the fort. He remembered every summer between the ages of 6 and 12, he would come to the fort to play with Caspar, escaping the unbearable heat of house Hevring, and all the tutors Linhardt had during the cooler months. Thinking back, Linhardt recalled that he had spent the whole year at Fort Merceus that first year he’d met Caspar. Then, he didn’t see him for a whole year until he was eight, and their summer routine began. It wasn’t until recently did Linhardt consider the power struggle that happened each day between Count Hevring and Count Bergliez during that time.

But that hardly mattered anymore. Count Bergliez was at Enbarr, training the elite soldiers that protected the capital. His own father was in Hevring, restructuring the internal workings of Adrestia for Edelgard, acting as though no war was happening. Linhardt felt a tinge of annoyance at the old man. Even while the war continued, he was still sending Linhardt marriage prospects. He didn’t even tell Old Hevring that he was leaving Enbarr for Merceus. His letters could accumulate at the apartment for all he cared.

What mattered now was that Linhardt would see Caspar soon. The tightening in his chest returned and his stomach was alit with something. It wasn’t a knot, it was… a small fire. A small fire that seemed to edge out shyly, up to his chest, and down to his loins. Then it would retract, as though it didn’t mean to go so far. It made Linhardt antsy, but it also made him happy. It was akin to the flutter in his chest whenever Caspar stayed the night during a thunderstorm. Or the heat that overtook his cheeks when Caspar touched him during their academy days.

Linhardt had long thought such feelings faded, when he and Caspar returned to the Empire and were separated for different duties. Caspar went to the front lines, and Linhardt took over half of his father’s responsibilities in Enbarr. They sent letters to each other weekly, Linhardt sending them on Friday nights, and Caspar’s returning on Sunday morning, responding to a letter from weeks ago. But they never visited each other. Linhardt was glad for that now. If they had visited each other, surely this feeling would be worse. Or maybe, it would be less unbearable due to desensitization. He couldn’t decide.

It was all moot now, at any case. Linhardt’s carriage was coming upon the entrance of the fort at the back of the town. A splash of bright blue caught his eye, and he realized Caspar was waiting for him. He was dressed in a simple tunic, tucked into a pair of mahogany breeches. The sight of him made Linhardt’s heart flip.

Absentmindedly, Linhardt adjusted his hair and cloak. Some of his hair had become dishevelled in his sleep. He tucked those strands behind his ears.

The carriage came to a stop, and Caspar nearly tripped over himself to open the door to his carriage. It was like all those summers ago. A warm heat bloomed on Linhardt’s cheeks, and he lost control of the muscles at the corners of his mouth, quirking up against his will.

“Lin!” Caspar’s eyes were sparkling as he opened the door.

“Caspar,” Linhardt let himself give a little smile.

Caspar took Linhardt’s hand and helped him out of the carriage. It was an odd thing to do, considering they were both men, but Linhardt didn’t comment on it. He was too busy looking over the features of his oldest friend. His shoulders had squared out, but his waist was still slim. His eyes were more serious now, but still filled with kindness and mirth. And oh—!

“You’ve grown!” Linhardt couldn’t hide his surprise as Caspar picked him up, off his feet.

“I told you I did! I told you in my letters!” Caspar put Linhardt down.

“Yes, but I thought you were exaggerating. As usual.”

“Hey!”

Linhardt chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry Caspar. It’s just so good to see you again.”

“Y-you too!”

The way Caspar’s voice hitched made something deep within Linhardt alight. He looked at his oldest friend –his best friend—again and saw that he had become quite flushed. Linhardt stood with his eyes wide for a moment and noticed just how close they were standing. In fact, Caspar’s arms were still wrapped snugly around Linhardt’s waist. It was never any trouble during their academy days, but now that they were older, it seemed odd for them to stand like so. They were so close, he could smell the woodsy scent of sweat on Caspar. He hated to admit it, but the scent ignited something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

They stood there, both taking each other in when Caspar let his arms drop and stepped away.

“Uhh, I’ll get your bags!” He started on the next carriage, easily picking up a briefcase of books under his arm and two more with his study notes in the other. Linhardt couldn’t help but notice how strong he was, how his muscles bulged as he took those briefcases. He wondered idly what it would feel like to touch them, caress them even.

It wasn’t long before the two were having dinner in the mess hall of the fort. It was like nothing had changed. Caspar couldn’t stop talking about all that’s happened in the last four years, repeating most of the stories from his letters. Then, he filled Linhardt in on his duties at the fort. He was to instruct students here before they were sent to the front lines on Gloucester territory, and he was to continue his research.

“Too bad, you don’t have a lotta time to settle in. The students arrive in a day or so.”

Linhardt hummed. So that was why Hubert was in such a hurry to send him off.

“Anyway,” Caspar took their trays back towards the kitchen, “Let me show you your room.”

The room was far from the mess hall. The labyrinth of their childhood was much less confusing as an adult, especially after a short stint of diving through a rabbit hole on architecture. But Linhardt still had to marvel at the details in every corner, and the paintings detailing the change in aesthetics over time. Linhardt wasn’t a lover of art, per se, but he appreciated the history behind it, and how it shadowed major events in Fódlan’s past.

When Caspar finally led him to his room, he recognized it as one that they explored as children. It was a room filled with books and tapestries, one of the better guestrooms, really.

“Alright! Here we are! I can let you settle in while I get your things.”

“Hmm,” Linhardt responded. When he opened the door, nothing could prepare him for the sight of such a sad and empty room, completely stripped of anything that reminded Linhardt of his memory of it. He couldn’t help but gasp.

“L-lin? Are you okay?” Caspar had doubled back, looking at Linhardt with concern.

“The tapestries… The books…”

“Oh those? They were sent to the front lines as blankets and kindling.”

“Kindling!”

“Good way to make use of old—” Caspar’s expression softened. “I’m sorry Lin, that was pretty insensitive.”

Linhardt was surprised to find tears forming at his eyes as he walked into the room like a ghost. Or perhaps the room was the ghost, and Linhardt was merely a witness to its husk.

Caspar tottered after him, eyebrows drawn.

Linhardt sank into the bed, looking around. The damage wasn’t so bad, the bed was still intact. Following him like a confused dog, Caspar sat beside him and put his arm around Linhardt. The impossible warmth radiating off of him calmed Linhardt. He leaned into his shoulder, drinking in the heady musk of his scent, feeling the pit in his stomach give way to something warmer and darker.

“I suppose…” Linhardt sighed. It was ridiculous, to cry over books like so. “I suppose war touches everything. That’s just the state of world.”

“Yeah…” Caspar didn’t say much, just pressed a kiss upon his temple.

Linhardt nearly laughed at the gesture, his grief dissipating like morning mist. “Thank you, Caspar, for staying.”

“Uhh… Yeah! I couldn’t let you cry on your own! Even if I don’t really get why.”

Linhardt smiled to himself and pressed a kiss onto the bottom of Caspar’s jaw. It made Caspar’s face turn into a delightfully red hue. And it made Linhardt want to do it again, and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking at when Linhardt and Caspar met, and realized they met the year before the Insurrection of Seven? So I head-canon that their dads put aside their differences for that, but when Bergliez didn't follow through, Old Hevring was pretty pissed.


	5. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar doubts himself.

After such a tense exchange, Caspar was surprised that Linhardt would follow it up with a passionate kiss, pushing them both onto the bed. Linhardt’s kisses were hungry, almost desperate. Caspar could hardly respond in kind. He was glad to have Linhardt’s body so close again, but the passion bordering on madness was what he couldn’t comprehend.

When it was all done, Caspar was out of breath, and Linhardt’s clothing were pretty much ruined. It took them a while to get ready again. Caspar couldn’t help but notice that Linhardt was crying while they dressed. It was the silent kind, ones that he tried to hide.

But now they were at the mess hall, Linhardt’s hands grasped around Caspar’s so tightly, he thought his hand would break. Linhardt’s hands, not Caspar’s. When he looked up at him, he saw that his face was a mask of calm. And when his students came to greet him, he even managed a soft smile.

Was Caspar wrong? Was whatever Linhardt foresaw worse than anything Edelgard could do to them? To their families?

No time for doubts. Today was supposed to be a good day. Reinforcements were coming. And if whatever Linhardt intuited was true, they’ll have time to slip out in the chaos of new troops. Yes, they’ll have time to figure everything out.

The two had to let go of each other to pick up their breakfast tray. It was sautéed pheasant with eggs, except each person only got half a pheasant. When Caspar began walking towards his battalion, Linhardt gently guided him to a more private table.

“Uhh… Lin?”

“Just for today.”

When they sat down, Caspar’s unease grew. Why today, of all days? For two months, they had been frozen in time. Caspar couldn’t guess what was going on in Linhardt’s head; he had a rough idea, but wasn’t sure. Caspar knew that he had been replaying the day he declined Ferdinand’s invitation to join him on the Great Bridge of Myrddin over and over. He kept thinking, what if he had been there? If it was Ferdinand, Ladislava, Linhardt, and himself, would it have made a difference? But that was before they knew the Professor was back, before they saw her at Ailell. Back then, they were winning the war. Now, Caspar wasn’t so sure.

He still recalled with startling clarity, the look on Linhardt’s face when they were given the news.

“Ferdinand and Ladislava fell. The Great Bridge of Myrddin is lost.”

His face had gone pale. His tall, thin frame wavered slightly. Tears didn’t even come. And after a while, all he could manage to say was, “Oh, Hubert.”

Caspar had longed to spend the first few weeks clinging onto Linhardt desperately. He had wanted his touch, his heat, on every part of his body. But Linhardt retracted, as though he were hiding some shame. It made Caspar angry at first. He had destroyed so many practice dummies that his students became frightened. Once, he had almost snapped at Linhardt, after which the man made himself scarce. But after their loss at Gronder Field, Linhardt invited him back to his bed again. Yet nothing was repaired then. They still couldn’t speak of Ferdinand.

So why today? What had possessed Linhardt to finally touch Caspar? To kiss him? To feel him?

Caspar couldn’t shake it off. The way Linhardt was behaving, something really was wrong. Perhaps there was room for discussion, and Caspar had been too dense to see it.

“Caspar,” Linhardt began, “I want you to be careful today. I’m afraid, since you’re intent on staying, today may be our last day together.”

Caspar said nothing. Linhardt had changed his mind. He was going to leave no matter what. Linhardt didn’t know that if he left, Caspar would follow, consequences be damned. Edelgard be damned.

“Do you really think that’d be the best for us?”

“Huh?” Linhardt’s eyes focused, looking at Caspar earnestly.

“If you think we ought to leave, we’ll leave.” Caspar dropped his voice to a whisper.

Linhardt’s face lit up. The brightening of his face could put the moon to shame.

“Caspar, I’m glad you came around. I know I sprung the idea on you so suddenly. In truth, I wasn’t sure until this morning.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“So many things weren’t adding up.” Linhardt dropped his voice. It had the side effect of making it much deeper. Caspar felt his face heat up, thinking about what transpired this morning. “I have a feeling that General Stassen is not coming at all today. Edelgard was already going to send us reinforcements in two week’s time. That’s more than reasonable, since we incurred so many losses at Gronder. But reinforcements coming today? There wouldn’t be enough time for them to form up, gather supplies, and march.”

Caspar nodded, unable to follow. Okay, he’ll leave the reasons to Linhardt. But that still didn’t solve the problem of Edelgard’s threat.

Intuiting his thoughts, Linhardt continued. “And you may not have noticed this, but Jeritza has been acting… strange. Stranger than usual. Something is off.”

“And we have to leave?”

“Yes.” Linhardt’s eyes turned inward, unfocusing again. “I had a dream last night. A… a nightmare.”

Caspar reached his hand to touch Linhardt’s, rubbing his knuckles. He knew what Linhardt’s nightmares meant.

“I was watching you and Jeritza leave the fort. You were both running. And great javelins of light rained down upon Merceus. Most of our troops did not escape.” Linhardt was looking into the distance. “It was frightful.”

Caspar stood, going around the table to hold Linhardt. “Hey, it’s okay. None of that’s gonna happen today. We’re gonna leave.”

“And go where?” An impossibly low voice spoke beside them.

“J-Jeritza! Umm… Nowhere? We were gonna—”

Linhardt cut him off. “We were talking about what we would do after the war. We thought we could do a bit of travelling.” Linhardt spoke evenly and coolly, as though he had expected this. But that was impossible, right?

“I see.”

Before anyone could protest, Jeritza had joined their table for breakfast. No one spoke further. Caspar tried a few times, because to suddenly fall silent was suspicious, right? But neither men responded to any of what Caspar said, so he settled uneasily into his meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know what happens in the Golden Deer route, you'll know what Linhardt's weird dream is about. Hopefully y'all saw the spoiler tags!!


	6. Pegasus Moon, 1184

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt begins teaching (and he's not great at it). Caspar comforts him.

The last few weeks had passed by in a blur. Linhardt was in such a state, organizing his research and developing lesson plans. He thought idly about how their professor had managed. She was a first year teacher then, all those years ago. He wondered if she felt like she was flying by the seat of her pants too.

Sighing, Linhardt had to confess, at least to himself. He wasn’t half the teacher Byleth was. She was calm and collected, and even had time to socialize outside of her class with the Golden Deer. Linhardt barely had time to learn any of his students’ names.

He remembered fondly that she was always running around, giving people flowers she had planted in the green house. It was with a pang in his heart that he remembered that last month before Edelgard’s attack on the monastery, that Byleth was desperately trying to recruit him into her house. But after discussing it at length with Caspar, they decided against it. It wasn’t just because Caspar was afraid of facing his old man, at least that’s what his lifelong friend had insisted. It was also because they just didn’t trust her enough. Linhardt had a soft spot for Claude, and was deeply curious about Marianne and Lysithea, but that wasn’t enough for him to turn tail and fight against the very country he and Caspar grew up in.

“Good morning, Mr. Hevring!” A student snapped Linhardt out of his reverie.

With an almost imperceptible yawn, Linhardt greeted his students, a sleepy smile on his face. He took one last look at his lesson plan and began teaching.

When it was lunch break, he was slumped at his desk after the last student left. Caspar poked his head through the door, a flash of bright blue in an otherwise dreary classroom.

“Hey Lin, want some grub?”

“Ugh. Just let me sleep.”

Caspar strode through the doors, and Linhardt repositioned his head to peer up at him. His friend had a rueful grin on his face.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I brought it upon myself.”

“I’ve never heard you admit that.” A bark of a laugh.

“Let it not be said that I won’t admit to my mistakes.”

“No one would say that about you, Lin.” Even though he just did.

A chair screeched against the stone floor, and a furnace that smelled vaguely like pinewood sat next to him. When had Linhardt closed his eyes? Oh well.

“Do you… Want a break this afternoon? I can take the mages on a training excursion.”

“I have healers this afternoon.”

“Oh! Even better! We need medics! There’s some wolves to the north, in the mountains. Can’t get better than some hands on experience!”

Linhardt guffawed, which seemed to startle Caspar into silence. “They barely know how to cast physic. Who taught these kids anyway?”

“Uhh… No one. That’s why you’re here.”

With some effort, Linhardt opened his eyes, looking up at Caspar. From this angle, it was a surprise, Caspar was quite handsome. His jawline filled out. His neck had thickened. And his hair… This was a nice angle to appreciate the short crop of his hair.

Caspar smiled down at him, that same rueful smile. Was it rueful? There had to be a better way of describing it. Linhardt scrunched up his brows. He really didn’t have the energy to be thinking about how to describe Caspar’s smile.

“Oh, Lin…” Caspar patted his head, far too gently, and got up. Linhardt sat up too. “You wanna get lunch then?”

With a dramatic heave, Linhardt pushed himself up from his seat. It was such a comfortable chair. He’d have to take this one with him when he returned to Enbarr. “Alright, let’s go.”

The afternoon passed by far easier than the morning. At least he knew what he was talking about when he was teaching faith magic. Black magic on the other hand? There was so much he didn’t know. Students who had a propensity for lightning, Linhardt couldn’t teach at all. It was with some regret that he’d never picked up thoron on account of Caspar’s astraphobia. But the thought of that tiny menace being afraid of him on the battlefield –being afraid of anything on the battlefield—reassured Linhardt that he’d made the right choice. He’ll have to pay for it now, but it was the right choice.

Similar to their lunch break, Caspar poked his head into Linhardt’s classroom while he was slumped over his desk at the end of the day.

“Ugh…” Linhardt grumbled as soon as he noticed Caspar’s presence. It was hard to miss, now that he was wearing all his armour after a practical excursion. The clank of his boots entered the room, and he felt a huff of air as Caspar sat next to him and sighed.

They sat in amicable silence for a moment, not unlike their school days. Oh, how Linhardt missed those days. He could actually sleep in class and no one really minded. Now, if he slept in class. He could just imagine the chaos. Were they this rowdy when they were students? Did these kids know they were in the middle of a war?

Linhardt let out an exasperated sigh. “Why are we teaching kids how to kill each other?”

“Hm?”

Linhardt looked up at his friend’s face. It was awfully flushed. “Nevermind. I already know the answer.” And then he paused. “Why are you so red?”

“O-oh! Am I? I guess, it’s kinda warm in here?”

“Is it?” Reaching a cool hand up to Caspar’s face, Linhardt observed that he was really warm. “Must be all the armour you’re wearing.”

“A-are you asking me to undress?” Caspar sputtered.

Linhardt had to raise an eyebrow at that. Linhardt hadn’t even meant to tease him, and the boy was already a mess. Oh. Caspar wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man. The idea of that made a shot of heat run through his spine.

“How else are you going to carry me back to my room? All that armour is going to be so uncomfortable.” What was Linhardt saying? This felt suspiciously like that first time he had convinced Ferdinand to warm his bed after an excruciatingly boring bout of tea.

“Linny! I’m not gonna carry you!” Caspar whined, not at all how Linhardt was expecting him to react. He expected Caspar to be bashful, maybe even shy. He didn’t expect an outright childish refusal. What was Linhardt doing? Was he trying to get Caspar into bed with him?

“Oh. I suppose, I can get myself there.” Linhardt settled on.

But Caspar was taking his armour off, grumbling along the way. He revealed his black undershirt and mahogany slacks underneath the heavy armour. Linhardt was surprised with himself. The smell wafting off of Caspar was irresistibly masculine, all sweat and musky. It was a smell he was familiar with after Caspar had carried him to bed so many times while they were in the academy. It was a smell that never failed to make Linhardt’s heart pound and made heat travel down to his groins in a shameful manner. Thinking back, it was this very smell that drew him to Ferdinand at all. It was the smell of Caspar.

This wasn’t what Linhardt expected, for an afternoon in the middle of a week to be the moment he admitted that he was attracted to Caspar. Attracted to his best friend.

“Hop on.” Caspar had his back to him now.

“Um, no. I rescind my earlier request. I’d like to… If I may.” Linhardt felt his tongue stumble across all his syllables. How embarrassing.

Caspar turned, looking down at Linhardt with his head cocked. “What’s up, Lin?”

Linhardt motioned for Caspar to come closer, so that the axe-wielder knelt beside his chair. He ran his fingers through Caspar’s hair, one side long, one side short, and watched his face glow with embarrassment. But even his dense friend somehow had the sense to say nothing. It was like a dam had burst, and all the feelings from his academy days rushed back to him. The heat that rushed to his face whenever their hands touched, the knot in his stomach whenever Caspar slung his arm casually around anyone other than Linhardt, that warmth in his belly when Caspar slept beside him. All the feelings Linhardt had ignored rushed past him and swept him along with the current. Now that he was older, and had experience, Linhardt finally knew what to name his feelings. It wasn’t just attraction or deep friendship, it was uninhibited love. It was childish love. And now it had changed. Because Caspar has changed. They’ve both grown.

“You’re really beautiful.” Caspar blurted out, his eyes wide.

Linhardt’s face warmed into a smile. “And you’re very handsome. More handsome than I’d ever like to admit.” Then he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and leaned down to kiss him.

Caspar’s lips met him halfway.

They really had grown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just let me believe that even in their love confession, the two would be in lock-step.


	7. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar struggles with Linhardt's revelation while he trains his students.

Classes, or rather training, commenced. Caspar didn’t really teach classes. He remembered looking at Linhardt as he left, and the healer returning his gaze with far more intensity than he was used to. What happened to his sleepy friend? The one that didn’t care about anything? Even when the war was waging on, Linhardt didn’t seem to have a care. He vaguely remembered that for one day, Linhardt was troubled. When was it?

Right! It was the millennium festival. Nobody cared then, Garreg Mach had fallen. But he couldn’t help but remember that day anyway. It was cold, but Caspar hardly cared. He remembered Linhardt waking up suddenly and being perfectly silent. That was the day he said something really strange. Linhardt had said, “We shouldn’t be here. We should be with the professor.”

It was kinda weird how Linhardt intuited the return of the professor. But Linhardt had intuited the war when they were 8, so it wasn’t too big of a surprise.

Linhardt also dreamed about things that didn’t make a lot of sense. Dreams that were just… dreams. Caspar didn’t envy Linhardt. If he had a nightmare, it was impossible to tell whether it was some sort of premonition or just a regular nightmare. Caspar dreamed about thunderstorms all the time. And he supposed they happened, at some point, but that was different. Linhardt dreamed once that Edelgard became a spider. That was pretty improbable, right?

Caspar nearly lost his balance as his student dodged instead of parried. Agh! Caspar’s gotta get his head in the game! If this were on the battlefield, he’d be toast.

“General Bergliez!” The student leaned forward, as though she could catch him. Bianca was her name, a timid little thing.

“You surprised me there!” Caspar laughed, reaching a hand behind his head. “Alright, come at me again.”

She held back.

Caspar’s got a lot to do to coax anything battle-worthy out of this one. Why couldn’t the students be more like him? Fearless, and bold? Bianca couldn’t dodge every attack; soon enough she would slip up. And then what? Battle wasn’t a simulation. Her enemy wouldn’t lean down and give her a hand up. Every battle, one had to be prepared to die.

But Caspar was soft. He couldn’t bear to go hard on the girl.

“Jeritza!” Caspar called to the other side of the training ground.

Jeritza wasn’t coaching any of his students, but apparently taking inventory of… armours? And weapons?

Okay, that’s not too weird considering reinforcements were coming. But after what Linhardt said about him acting weird…? And why were they doing training today? Shouldn’t they be getting prepared to greet General Stassen? Jeritza wasn’t one for formalities, but this was almost a disrespect of the chain of command!

He walked over to Jeritza, putting a casual hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what’re you up to?”

“Take your hand off of me.”

“Okay, okay.” Caspar eyed the much taller man, working to hide his own emotions. “But seriously, why are you counting supplies?”

“We are going on a field training exercise.” He paused, a little too long, even for him. “To boost morale.”

“Right, right…” Okay, Caspar needed an out. “Hey, listen, could you take over for my students a bit? They’re, well… Okay, I’m having some trouble being as harsh with them as I should be. The frontlines are changing, soon enough we’ll all be called to fight.”

“Hmm.” Jeritza eyed Caspar cautiously.

Oh no, was what he said wrong? Was it obvious?

“I understand in times of war, we wish to be with our loved ones. In truth, there is someone that I wish dearly to be with.”

Caspar’s mouth formed a line. It was a little bit awkward to hear Jeritza speak so many slow cadenced words at once.

“But if everything goes according to plan, you will be with Linhardt soon enough.”

If everything went according to plan? Wait, he’d be with Linhardt? Caspar struggled to keep his voice from squeaking. “L-Linhardt? This has nothing to do with him!” What came out of his mouth was a squeak, and a stammer.

“Oh. I must be mistaken.”

Drats. Caspar’s own emotion got in the way of his plan. Linhardt would have done a way better job. Ugh, why didn’t he think of some plan that made Linhardt come here instead? He would have found some way to distract Jeritza.

Still, Caspar’s chest tightened at the thought of Linhardt. If whatever Linhardt dreamed about was really going to happen today… He had to find Linhardt quickly and plan. They’ll meet at lunch, Caspar decided. Yeah, this time there’ll be no hesitation. They’ll take what’s on them and go.

Caspar still hesitated at the thought. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. But when threatened by both Edelgard and Hubert before Linhardt came, that was a bit much even for Caspar. There was nothing on the battlefield that Caspar feared, although for the past three years he hadn’t really seen the front lines. Whatever assailant came at him, he knew he had the strength to beat them down. But the emperor of his country? If he defected, he was absolutely certain she would find him. She would find him, and find Linhardt, and find all their friends who had long joined the professor –5 long years ago—and she would make an example out of them. Hubert had made an example out of his own father. Caspar knew why. It’s do or die. If Caspar left the empire, he’d be a huge hassle to face on the battlefield. So if he left, or even had an intention to leave, they wouldn’t hesitate to strike him down.

But it didn’t matter. If Linhardt was right, and those… light thingies were coming down today, they can pretend they died in the chaos and get out of here. They just needed to meet and plan it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Caspar believes Linhardt can do pretty much anything.


	8. Lone Moon, 1184

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content ahead!

The last two months could only be described as madness. Sheer and utter madness. Each day, after classes, Caspar would stop by Linhardt’s classroom and outright drag him to his room. They would forgo dinner, instead feasting on the sweat and kisses that came with being with each other. The first few weeks were exhilarating, but also painful. Linhardt was pleasantly surprised to discover the difference in… dimensions, between Caspar and his former lover. But that luxury came at the price of being rendered completely unable to sit for the first few frenzied days, much to Linhardt’s chagrin. He had to lecture standing up!

Honestly, Linhardt was surprised that they didn’t take a break from teaching at all until the celebrations for the new year were underway. It seemed odd to celebrate in the middle of a war, but they were winning. Faerghus was falling, their king long gone. The Leicester Alliance was crumbling little by little, with Claude doing an admirable but pointless job. Merceus was far from the frontlines, more of an institution for training than defence.

And now they finally had a whole two weeks to themselves, free to hide away in the comforts of blankets and pillows in Linhardt’s room.

“Lin,” Caspar mumbled. It was so unlike him to wake up late for once. Though, considering everything they did last night, it was no surprise the man was worn out. He was so excited by the prospect of staying in with Linhardt for half a month that he went three times. Three! Now that was an unparalleled stamina.

Linhardt stroked Caspar’s cheek with his fingers, looking down at him and feeling a familiar swell in his chest. He couldn’t help but muse on how he fell in love with such an excitable, messy man. But Caspar was also caring, selfless, and kind. Well, the excitable part Linhardt certainly didn’t mind, at any case.

“Mm…” Caspar scrunched his face up when Linhardt accidentally pushed part of his fringe into his eye. He batted at Linhardt’s hand and tried to roll over in his sleep. It was so bizarre to watch Caspar sleeping next to him. What a role reversal. Linhardt was tempted to kiss Caspar, but that probably would have disturbed him more. When Caspar woke up before Linhardt, he never had any trouble grinding against him, panting desperate little breaths into his ear until he woke up. But Linhardt wasn’t so inconsiderate.

Instead, he got up and stretched, feeling the muscles in him loosen. He looked at Caspar’s form, his broad back facing him, and studied the muscles there, bunched and powerful. He was struck momentarily by the idea of seeing Caspar’s back for once. Well, it wasn’t like Linhardt showed his back often either. They both preferred facing each other when love making.

Satisfied with his stretch, Linhardt ambled over to his worktable, the barren oak thing, and picked out one of his robes from the pile of discarded clothing on his chaise. It smelled faintly like Caspar, since all their clothes were bundled together in a heap.

It was odd to have a moment to himself for once. Linhardt had to be honest, he missed all the time he had to himself. But if he were to return to the kind of life he led in Enbarr, he would miss Caspar terribly. That was the thing with relationships. They took up so much time, but once you got all that time back, you wouldn’t know what to do with it. Well, might as well cherish what little time he had to both be by himself and in the presence of Caspar.

Before he knew it, the morning bell had rung. He was still working on his research and had barely any leads. The only texts that were of any use were some archaic looking texts in a language so old he could barely decipher them. It mentioned some truly bizarre terms, such as “Agarthan” and “Nabatean”, and most of the research either involved blood or some strange terms about unfamiliar magic and organs. Linhardt rubbed his eyes and yawned. He really wasn’t his most productive until at least after the evening bell. Which was a shame, because that left him only a measly 3 hours before the midnight bell, at which time he had no choice but to sleep if he intended on being able to teach the next day. Regardless, all these words were too much to unravel with the sun streaming through his window, casting a warm ray onto his bed, where Caspar was sleeping. Perhaps, he could go back to bed.

He returned to the bed and crawled back into the heaped mess. He couldn’t help but marvel at Caspar’s statuesque form. It was… Hmm, yes, it was chiselled. Linhardt felt a little pang of embarrassment. What a way to describe someone! Caspar stirred. 

“Lin…” He murmured. Caspar was turning, and his arms were splayed out, allowing Linhardt to find his way into his embrace.

“Good morning Caspar. It’s quite a treat to watch you sleep for once.”

“Mm… Wha—? What time is it?”

“Well, the morning bell just rang, so it must be 9.”

Caspar leapt out of bed, jarring Linhardt out of his arms. “We’ve missed breakfast!”

Settling back into their love nest alone, Linhardt yawned. “Yes, we have. All the more reason for you to stay in bed with me.”

Even after all this time, Caspar could still turn a hot hue of scarlet whenever Linhardt even hinted at the idea of them together. “O-oh, yeah!” And then he settled back into bed.

Linhardt couldn’t help but smile to himself. They have the next little while to themselves. No classes to break up their time together, no Jeritza to bluntly interrupt them about faculty meetings, of all things, and definitely no field missions where Linhardt had to spend nights by himself, in a room too bare, a bed too cold. He sighed. It was going to be wonderful. Like a vacation. Or a honeymoon.

That snapped him out of his little dream. A honeymoon? Like the blissful vacations married people went on? He could imagine spending his life with Caspar. Before their four years apart, he couldn’t have imagined life without him. Now, he found he still couldn’t imagine his life without him. Especially with the new level of intimacy they’ve achieved. He couldn’t imagine waking up to an empty bed or falling asleep without Caspar’s arms around him. He couldn’t imagine a world without Caspar’s rambunctious voice filling his ears, or his sweet and earthy smell pervading every room he happened to linger long enough in. To put it simply, being with Caspar was like breathing. Once you started, you couldn’t really stop. One couldn’t go back to a state without Caspar after being with him. Perhaps, after the war…

Letting his eyes focus again, Linhardt realized that Caspar had been staring intently at him. His eyes were like pools of mountain water, so clear and bright. They were looking at him with concern? No, they were just studying him, roaming freely over his face and his body. Caspar licked his lips and tugged at the rope holding Linhardt’s robe together.

“Lin…” Caspar murmured, and leaned down to brush his nose against Linhardt’s.

Linhardt returned his wanting gaze, feeling his body press against him, weighing him down.

Slowly, oddly gently, Caspar pressed his lips against Linhardt’s, brushing and moving against them, as though he were teasing him. Linhardt smiled into the kiss. It was a trick out of his own book, but he was falling for it. He lifted his chin up to chase Caspar’s lips as they pulled away, just a little.

“How unlike you.” Linhardt remarked, as Caspar rolled off of him, a soft smile on his lips. His expression though, there was something sad about it. But that expression flickered away quickly as Linhardt propped himself up on his elbows, letting his robe slip wantonly off his shoulders.

“I, um.” Caspar licked his lips. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Linhardt chuckled and moved his head to the junction between Caspar’s neck and shoulders, letting his robe fall away completely, basking in the warmth of the sun and Caspar. He sighed onto the sensitive skin there, and felt a tremor go through Caspar. Grazing his lips against the sensitive area, Linhardt traced a finger up Caspar’s hip. It was a feathery touch, meant to intrigue and excite. He knew what game he was playing at, so he wasn’t surprised by what happened next.

With a jolt, Caspar had pinned Linhardt down and was kissing him earnestly, all the gentleness from earlier gone. He was straddling Linhardt and pushing his shoulders down into the bed. Somehow their blankets had gotten caught between them and Caspar fought to rip them out, nearly tearing the blanket and losing his balance all in one go.

“Heh.” Caspar grinned ruefully down at him, but he looked proud too. Linhardt followed his battle-worn torso down to his hips. And there it was, the reason why the boy was so proud. A perky, drooling little thing was nodding in his direction. Well, one could hardly call it little, but it made the weapon of so much pain and pleasure seem more manageable somehow.

“Caspar, you must contain yourself.” Linhardt was cupping Caspar’s balls now, which wiped the smirk off his face. “We don’t have the supplies to find more blankets.”

The man managed to look ashamed, deepening the flush on his face. “O-oh yeah.” He moved his hips slightly, as though he were searching for stimulation. “Sorry, Lin.”

“Hmm, no need to apologize. I suppose it’s my fault for working you up so.” Then he pressed his finger onto the slit of Caspar’s cockhead, taking some of the drool there to taste. Linhardt was going to admit wrongdoing, but he certainly wasn’t going to repent.

Caspar gasped. “Ah… Lin.” Now he really was moving in search of stimulation. “Are we…?”

With a little smile playing on his lips, Linhardt reached to the bedside table to grab at the bottle of oil. Caspar had to shift his weight to reach it for him. The movement caused him to rub against Linhardt, leaving a trail of precum and eliciting a soft little gasp from Caspar.

“Mm, prep me.” Linhardt commanded.

Caspar, bless the boy, was so hurried and shaky that he nearly spilled the whole bottle onto his fingers. Linhardt sucked his teeth, and Caspar peered up. “Sorry, Lin.”

“Just one finger, I need some warming up in the morning.”

And then, a gentle finger was prodding at Linhardt’s opening, wiggling itself in.

“Y-you don’t seem to need that much uh… Warming up.” Caspar was panting already, his other hand gripping Linhardt’s thigh, almost painfully. “Fuck. You’re hot inside.”

A long groan came out of Linhardt’s lips. He couldn’t help it, penetration was always an intense affair for him. He had to stroke himself to keep the feeling from becoming too much. He wished he could be touching Caspar instead.

“I’m putting in a second finger, okay?” An explosion of colour played out across the inside of Linhardt’s eyelids. The second finger was stretching him out. “Wow Lin, you’re looser than I thought.”

Linhardt responded in a moan. He felt as Caspar’s fingers started thrusting into him. They were slow, forcing Linhardt to feel every movement. They were searching for his sweet spot, just as Linhardt taught him.

“Ah!” Linhardt gasped, and then a mix between a whimper and a scream tore through his throat, bouncing around the room. “Caspar, yes!” His voice was hoarse and far too loud, but he didn’t care.

“Lin, goddess. I want you, let me have you.” Caspar was rutting against the bedsheets, eyes focused singularly on Linhardt.

“Wait, just let me…” The pressure from Caspar’s fingers were perfect, it made him want to scream. “Okay, okay, I’m ready.” He was panting at this point. He had to stop stroking himself to calm down.

“Okay.” Something was breaching his entrance, and it burned.

“Caspar! Oil!”

“O-oh!” Caspar’s breathing was laboured.

“So impatient! Why are you so—” Linhardt was interrupted by a loud groan from the both of them as Caspar pushed his slicked up dick into Linhardt’s opening. Linhardt couldn’t think. He was so close already. If Caspar moved wrong, he would—

It was too late, Linhardt was already spilling his seed onto his belly. Looking down at the mess then up at his lover, Caspar’s face and chest were flushed all over. “Already?”

“Sorry, love…” Linhardt turned his face and groaned into the pillow. Caspar was still moving, rubbing against his sweet spot. He was overstimulating Linhardt, and he was relishing in his every whimper.

“Guess I gotta… Ha… Catch up!” He didn’t speed up though, not until he had sufficiently stretched Linhardt out to fit the shape of his dick.

“Mm… Caspar, that’s too much. You’re too big for me.”

“Am I?” Hearing that familiar phrase made Caspar pick up the pace. Linhardt smirked. This boy was wicked through and through. “Maybe… Mmm… It’s your fault for being so…” Caspar’s eyes widened. “So…” He couldn’t finish his sentence as his hips started to move with a life of their own, thrusting into Linhardt erratically.

An unintelligible shout came out of Caspar’s mouth as he pushed both of Linhardt’s legs up to thrust himself as deep as he could into Linhardt’s hole.

They looked at each other, both flushed and sweating. And then Caspar collapsed onto Linhardt, kissing his ear and his jaw, murmuring sweet nothings.

“I love you too, Caspar.” Linhardt responded, chest heaving, and patted Caspar’s hair.

“I love you so much, I think I wanna marry you.”

“What’s that?”

“Like after the war. I wanna marry you.” Caspar sighed into Linhardt’s ear. “Because you’re so perfect.”

“Hm. That does sound pleasant.” Linhardt paused. “I think you’re perfect too.”

Caspar gave Linhardt a wet smooch on his cheek. Linhardt wiped at it and watched as the darker man got off of him, observing the mess between their bodies.

“Towel please.”

Caspar turned his head to look at the bedside table, giving a perfect angle for studying his jawline, which was somehow sharp and square at the same time. His hips were still pressed against Linhardt’s, carefully keeping him plugged up. He really was perfect.

“Shit.”

“Hm?” Linhardt snapped out of whatever dreamy thoughts were floating around in his head.

“We’re out of clean towels.”

“Shit indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that my choice of expletive is not great, but I'm leaving it because it's funny to me.


	9. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As noon approaches, Caspar is faced with more oddities from Jeritza.

The clash of gauntlets, the shimmering of sweat. Training or battle made no difference to Caspar. It excited him to no end. Even though he was just watching students spar, it was still a lot of fun! Actually, watching his students spar made him restless. His legs were bouncing, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

It reminded of him of watching his father and brother spar, when he was a kid. The Bergliez family were axe wielders, and he spent many moons watching axe technique so advanced, he didn’t know how he would ever catch up. Now he supposed he was their equal, but he’d never face them in battle.

The thought made him shiver. If he and Linhardt ran away, maybe he’d have to.

No! Don’t let the thoughts carry him away! He had to be brave, for Linhardt’s sake. Never again will he raise his voice out of anger –out of fear. Not to his students, not to Linhardt. He wasn’t some heartless bastard, set on pride and honour more than his own damned family.

He wasn’t his father.

Pulling his attention back to his students, he felt restless again. How was he ever going to get this second-rate bunch ready for battle? Reinforcements were coming, sure, but Merceus was supposed to train up the second army. They were a lifeline! And all they had were a bunch of kids who could barely hold up gauntlets. Honestly, did they just recruit random kids off the streets?

He knew these kids all joined the cause for glory or some sense of… obligation? Heck, he’d felt the same after he got over the shock of Edelgard declaring war. He had fought three long years on the front lines of Faerghus. He’d seen more bloodshed then than all the years of his life. And he had loved it. It was for his country, sure, but it was also for himself. He wanted to earn glory for himself. He wanted to be more than just some second son. More than just a shadow, or a passing thought his father flicked to some goddess-blasted corner of the room.

And now he’s stuck twiddling his thumbs, teaching students brawling footwork, of all things!

“Alright, next group!” Caspar stood and called. He wasn’t paying attention to the time, but he was tired of watching Eduard stumble all over himself in some pathetic attempt at being “quick on his feet”. The kid actually had the audacity to glower at him! His own general!

Okay, Caspar wasn’t usually this on edge when he worked with his students. The first few years were good years. He had good kids, brave kids. Now it was like the whole country was losing steam. The war had dragged on for too long.

But reinforcements were coming today. So it’ll all work out. With some new blood, the kids’ll have to try harder, or get left behind. Most of them won’t have to see battle at this rate. It was going to hurt to see so many of them die. It already hurt to know so many of them died.

Then he remembered what Linhardt said. There won’t be any reinforcements. Right. Judging by the way Jeritza was outfitting his battalions, that seemed about right. He knew they were going on some sort of training exercise, but right before reinforcements came? That lie was too thin to hold up. Yup, Linhardt was probably right. As always.

Caspar stood up and wiped his hands on his breeches, somewhat satisfied with the work of the last group.

“That’s a wrap, guys!” A student nearly tripped forward on nothing at Caspar’s voice. That’s a feat. “Take a water break, we’re doing some linked attack exercises next.”

“Will we get to face you this time, sir?”

“Uhh…” He stole a glance at Jeritza, wondering if he should keep his own energy up for what came next. “You know what, sure.”

“Really?” And then a different voice. “Yay!”

“Don’t get too excited. I won’t go easy on you, ya know!” Caspar gave his signature grin, and a few girls made swooning noises. Huh, did some boy catch their eye? It was good to be attached to people from the same battalion, it boosted morale. But it also led to reckless behaviour, so he’d have to watch out for that. The question was, which boy?

“Caspar.”

Oh boy.

“I would like to speak with you.”

“W-what’s up, Jeritza?”

The man stiffened for some reason. “Get your students prepared for the field training exercise.”

“Uhh, now? I mean, isn’t General Stassen coming before noon or something? Shouldn’t we go greet him?”

“Right.” Jeritza was looking into the distance. If Caspar hadn’t spent three years with the guy, he would’ve pegged him as someone who tried too hard to be deep. But no, this was just Jeritza. “Get your students prepared to greet General Stassen.”

“Sure. How many?”

“All of them.” And then his steely gaze turned back to Caspar.

“A-all of them? C’mon Jeritza, that’s not necessary.”

“All of them.”

“Okay, sure. Yeah, that’s fine.” Caspar scratched the back of his neck and he heard a burst of giggles behind him. He’d have to teach those girls manners, honestly.

“Outfit them in full armour. Soon.”

“Sooo, no linked attack exercises?”

Jeritza seemed to actually think about this. “No.”

“Should I tell Linhardt?”

“I will inform him.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. My kids’ll be outfitted in no time. You and your horses on the other hand…” Caspar trailed off, looking at Jeritza’s battalion, armours already donned. “Uh…”

“I will inform him.”

“Alright, thanks!”

After Jeritza strode away, some of his students rushed up to him, all smiling, all… girls. “General Bergliez! We heard we were going to be outfitted to meet reinforcements soon!”

“Uhh… Yep!”

“We were wondering…” One of them was shyly looking down. Was the sun too bright? He shifted his weight to give better shade.

“Would you help us don our armour?” One of them blurted out.

“Huh?” Caspar nearly laughed. “Can’t you girls do that yourselves? I mean, there’s three of you.”

“Oh General Bergliez, you don’t understand! Bianca here is so clumsy, she’ll make a mess of the lacings!” In response, Bianca blushed a deep crimson, but said nothing.

“Okay… You girls know that on the battlefield, I won’t be there to help you out, right?”

“Aww, you won’t be with us?”

Caspar’s heart squeezed thinking about his students going onto the battlefield without him. Was it about him not being on the battlefield? Or was it about this bunny’s litter of students facing battle at all? It was probably a combination of both.

“Nah, I’ll be stuck here training the next wave.”

“But you’re practically a war hero! Shouldn’t you be with us to change the tide of battle?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as that.” Caspar barked a laugh. If Linhardt were here, he’d know how to get out of donning armour for a bunch of girls. “C’mon, let’s get our armour.”

It was a surprise to see all their armour laid out neatly in rows. Jeritza did sort everything. Was that all he was doing this morning? No way, this would have taken more than a couple hours to do. He saw some of his afternoon axe wielding students come in as well. Jeritza must have gotten them too. Sothis if that man wasn’t thorough.

He surveyed the storeroom. Most of his students were delighted at the sight. It was nice to have things sorted, but a battlefield was never organized, so he never got into the habit of fostering that expectation. Also, it was just so much work. He grabbed his armour and his black undershirt. Oh! It was clean. Nice!

When he stepped back out into the training grounds again, he realized just how bright the day was. It was painful. Despite it being Harpstring Moon, the sun offered little proper warmth, mostly just harsh light.

Most of his students were already stripping and dressing. The industrious ones at least. Some of the girls were covering for each other. They’ll learn soon enough that on a war ground, no one cared about privacy. He’d seen his own commander naked more times than he could count. The human body had long lost any appeal for him after seeing so many scarred and maimed forms. Well, all bodies except one.

He took off his own training shirt to put on his undershirt. There were a few surprised gasps from the girls. Oh yeah, there was someone the girls were interested in, right? Who was it? He looked around but couldn’t really tell where the point of interest was. Must’ve been the kid beside him. The guy was jacked for someone so young.

Most of his students were dressed at this point. Caspar was satisfied. They were dressing almost as fast as him. Next he’ll have to remind them how to properly greet an ally army on the field.

“Umm… General Bergliez…” The girls were back. “Could you please help us with our armour?”

They were in various levels of undress. It was annoying. Those buttons at the back, under the armour, they couldn’t get a friend to do that? Caspar let out an exasperated sigh.

“On the battlefield, there’s no time to get all these buttons right. You gotta find an undershirt without buttons.” He paused, struggling with the detail work. “Also, these buttons’ll press into you if an enemy comes at you from behind. It’s gonna be uncomfortable.”

The girl under his hands was oddly silent while her friends giggled around her. Did they think this was a joke?

“I’m serious, girls. You gotta be practical.”

“Yessir.” They all said in unison.

Caspar’s heart softened. If only his father had given him a fraction of this kind of attention. It made him wish he could go back in time and show his younger self just how tender an adult could be, was allowed to be. These girls would grow, and this moment will never come back again. They’ll never giggle with each other and make annoying demands of a general ever again. They’ll be battle-hardened, and calloused.

He shouldn’t think about the past, or the future. He had to focus on the present. When they went out to meet General Stassen, he’ll find Linhardt and make a plan with him. But first, he had to teach the kids how to greet an ally army on the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how Caspar never got romantic overtures directed at him? This is pretty much that. Except it makes more sense here since he sees his students as his babies.


	10. Harpstring Moon, 1185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt has a dream.

On his free day, Linhardt frequently spent it sleeping under the shade of oak trees in the courtyard. Other people may think him lazy, but the truth of it was that he spent most of his nights staying up conducting research. Well, conducting was a generous word. It was more like he was transcribing the ancient tomes from Edelgard into a language more manageable to him and his assistants.

He was lucky to have any assistants at all, in such a remote location. Most of the trainees here were bound to become field medics or mages, nothing too academically straining. But there were a few shining stars, much to his surprise. There was Bianca, who was incorrigibly in love with Caspar. So much so that she requested to join his brawling class of all things even though that meant she’d have to spend another year here, under the guise of becoming a war cleric. Not many people did that nowadays, he doubted there’d be enough material to cover the basics for her. But she was somewhat of an ingenue when it came to matters of human organs. It was thanks to her years of studying non-traditional medicine that ended up with most of the patients all cut up, but he couldn’t help but wonder if her crest played a part in it too. He knew she had a crest because he’d seen the light of it activate when she casted heal once, but he didn’t catch what it was. It was a shame that the thought so scandalized her, she’d been unable to cast heal for weeks after, especially in front of Linhardt.

Why was it that Edelgard hated crests so, yet demanded he continue his research? Was she trying to make a point about crests being harmful for the human body? There was some merit to the idea, if the texts he was reading were even slightly accurate. But crests that were born with a person were so intertwined with who they were, that it would be impossible to distinguish the crest and the person. Well, almost. In terms of statistics though, it seemed those who bore crests generally lived a longer life, so the whole point was moot. The Department of Crestology in Enbarr had published a paper on that decades ago, spearheaded by Professor Hanneman, of course. Was Edelgard trying to force him to publish a paper that was factually false? That seemed a bit much, even coming from Edelgard.

Still, the ancient texts he’d deciphered seemed to suggest that crests which were unnaturally given would pose certain… restrictions on a person. There were two types of given crests, one through something called “The Gift” or “The Transfusion” or something and another through a more confusing method that involved taking the essence out of organs which were also stones? At first he thought it was talking about crest stones, but by the way they were described—as once beating hearts, and the souls of monsters—well, that didn’t quite seem right. The former method seemed to give the receiver an extended life and incredible powers that could be passed down through the generations, or drive them completely insane, while the latter had detrimental effects on the physical and psychological health of the individual.

He wondered which method was inflicted upon Edelgard.

Oh, Linhardt wasn’t dense. Well, he was a little dense. It took him three long years to finally figure out that Edelgard’s unnatural preoccupation with how to give and remove crests was likely based on the fact that either she was given a crest after her birth, or her crest was removed. Seeing as she still had a crest, it was likely the former. But what puzzled Linhardt beyond all belief was why she refused to let him study how to remove a crest, merely health ramifications. Did she intend to find a way to keep her crests and also suffer no limitations?

Well, that was asking to be a god. Linhardt was certain he couldn’t figure it out.

Enough. Today was meant to be a blissful day spent half in the sun, and half in the shade. Today was meant for dreaming of cats, sweets, and his little garden in Enbarr.

He relaxed back into the grass. If he wasn’t careful, he would really fall asleep.

The thought barely registered before he found himself drifting into a peaceful but light slumber. For as long as he could remember, Linhardt would have weird dreams about the future and the past, and even dreams that didn’t seem to belong in this world. Whenever he slept deeply, there was a chance that he would slip into a world unbound by time or logic. It was a dreamscape that could foretell futures or reminisce on the past as though it happened but a moment ago. It was never a bother to Linhardt as long as he slept only lightly. During his time at the academy, he could almost never fully sleep at night for fear of these dreams. Most of the dreams during that time were tumultuous dreams about war, blood, and Caspar dying under the scythe of the Death Knight. Then the war happened, and it all made sense. In the years after the war he still had nightmares, until they suddenly stopped. And now, they were starting again. Linhardt used his research as an excuse to stay up later and later, staving off sleep. But napping, that was a different issue altogether.

The light filtering through the still-new leaves of the tree cast bright patterns on his eyelids. Through those patterns, he imagined shapes. He remembered the colours of the stained glass windows in the cathedral. He remembered Caspar’s hand on his face when they were children, blocking the sun for him. He remembered Caspar dropping grass on his face, terribly irritating him. He remembered the pictures of plants and herbs he saw as a child in a book on brewing. He remembered the ocean, and waves crashing upon the shore. He remembered the one summer Caspar came to visit him, and how they swam for so long each day that Linhardt would often wake up sore. He remembered flowing water, and the glimmer of fish. And he remembered the colour of seafoam green.

“Linhardt. Linhardt, I must implore you to wake up.” A stuffy, girly voice called at him.

“Hm?” Linhardt couldn’t open his eyes, but in his mind he saw green hair and green eyes.

“This is no time for you to sleep. You must come meet my brother and I at the monastery.”

“Now?”

“Yes! We need you.”

“What about Caspar?”

“Have you forgotten? Caspar is dead.”

With a jolt, Linhardt sat up, bumping his head right onto Caspar’s chin.

“Ow.” He rubbed at his head as Caspar sat back, rubbing his chin.

“Ow to you too, Lin.” Caspar was smiling at him, all bright and… alive.

Linhardt couldn’t stop himself from grabbing at Caspar, inspecting him. He was warm to the touch, somewhat sticky. Without thinking more about it, he was casting faith magic, scoring over Caspar’s torso, checking for injuries. All he found were old scars and the gurgling of an empty stomach.

“Uh… Lin? Are you okay?” Caspar’s face was all concern. He was leaning so close, his breath puffing at Linhardt’s face and hair.

“Hold still, I need to check… Are you alive Caspar?”

“Alive as ever!” Caspar grinned at him. “I just got done training.”

“What year is it?”

“1184? No, 1185.”

“Okay, good. Good. You’re still alive. Good.”

Caspar’s face was a sea of confusion. No, stop thinking about the sea. He could feel small hands tugging on his sleeve. He focused on Caspar’s eyes instead. Cerulean blue, like the sky. Bright, and beautiful, and warm.

“Linhardt, you’re looking kinda pale. Let’s get you back to your room.”

“No, I’m fine. Really. It was… just a bad dream.”

“Wow, you can dream from just taking a nap?”

Linhardt looked around. It was nearly dusk. He had fallen into a deep sleep instead of the light nap he had hoped for.

“No, I’m afraid I had actually properly slept for once.” He smiled at Caspar, trying to keep whatever sadness from reaching his eyes. Even though it was a dream, it felt so real. The grief in his chest, it was as though Caspar really had died.

“What was the dream about?” Caspar asked, pulling Linhardt up.

Linhardt wavered on his feet for a moment, then found his balance. “It was… About Flayn.”

“Who?” Then his face lit up. “Seteth’s sister! That little one that joined the Golden Deer after she got kidnapped. Geez, I wonder how she’s doing.”

“I… I wonder too.”

“You’ve been dreaming a lot about weird stuff again, huh?” Caspar was walking backwards, studying him. “You okay?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Caspar stopped short, making Linhardt bump into him. “You’re not okay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Did you want to… do something? Like that first time you had a bad dream. After we signed up for boarding school together, they went away. Right?”

“It’s not that simple.” Linhardt had to smile. It was so Caspar to suggest such a quick solution. “I think we’re supposed to go back to Garreg Mach.”

Caspar’s hand flew to Linhardt’s mouth so quick, he nearly bit down on it. “Don’t talk like that around here!” He hissed. “It’ll sound like we’re defecting!”

He pushed the calloused hand away. “No, you’re right. We can’t go back now. There’s nothing there but ruins anyways. It was just a silly dream.”

An uneasy look flashed by Caspar’s face, whether it was about what Linhardt suggested, or something else was yet to be seen. But Caspar shut his mouth into a thin line and said nothing more. Instead, they walked in a tense silence until they came upon the mess hall, where the smell of burnt beast meat had Caspar talking easily again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a lot of fics where crests have more going for them than what's shown in the game (foux_dogue's fics being a huge inspiration). My idea is that since Flayn and Linhardt share the same crest, they can kind of affect each other when they're both asleep. I mean, even without crests, people who know each other really well can share dreams, so this is like a more powerful version of that.


	11. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's noon, and the army at Fort Merceus stand at the ready to greet reinforcements.

“Atten-tion!” Boots clanked together noisily, but in time.

“At ease.” Slightly sloppier clanking, but acceptable.

“Stand… Easy.” Caspar looked at his battalion of axe wielders, then glanced over at the battalion of brawlers with Commander Weinmann. “Now, I have to remind you, when General Stassen comes, he will be the one in command of the parade square. So don’t wait for my commands, listen to his! Any questions?”

Silence met his voice. Caspar was satisfied.

“Alright, just relax for a little bit. Bend your knees if you gotta. I’m gonna speak with the others.” He stopped by Commander Weinmann and said, “Hey Erhard, could you do some more drills with them if I’m not back in like… 5 minutes?” Commander Weinmann nodded. “Good stuff, thanks.” Caspar smiled and made his way to the centre of the fort, where Jeritza was already speaking with Linhardt and a couple archers.

“Tell me, why are we lining up in such a defensive position? Wouldn’t it make more sense to stand by the gate so we could greet General Stassen on the field?” Linhardt’s characteristic drawl droned on. He yawned, but Caspar could tell it was by no means genuine. He squeezed into the huddle beside Linhardt, who shot him a look.

“We must be prepared.” Jeritza’s mask was horribly disfiguring his voice. It sounded metallic and weird, just like how he remembered it.

“Prepared for what?” One of the archers asked, his mouth a thin line.

“Indeed, prepared for what?”

On that, Jeritza was silent.

Caspar felt so uncomfortable with everyone looking at Jeritza and the man saying nothing. Out of nowhere, he blurted, “Hey guys, my battalions are ready.”

Linhardt shot him another look.

“Uh… Hi General Bergliez.” The archers responded sheepishly.

“Let’s show General Stassen what we’re made of, yeah?”

“Yeah… Haha.”

For some reason, saying anything made Caspar feel even more awkward. He shot a little smile at Linhardt; one which he did not return.

“Uh, I just gotta chat with Linhardt for a bit, y’know?”

The archers nodded knowingly, while Jeritza continued his study on how to be a statue.

Whisking Linhardt away by the hip, Caspar couldn’t help but glance back a few times to make sure the others weren’t paying them too much mind. When they were an okay distance away, Caspar whispered to Linhardt, “Okay, what’s the plan?”

Linhardt cocked an eyebrow and waited a beat before he spoke. “When you go on your field training exercise with Jeritza, could you grab some of the alpine pasque we found there? Get the roots too, I need the roots for a salve I’m trying to figure out.” Caspar stared at him, gaping. “The roots can act as a stabilizing agent.” Linhardt stated, as though that was Caspar’s biggest question.

“Lin, I asked what the plan was.”

“Like I said, when you go on your field training exercise—”

“No, like—”

“Caspar.” Linhardt’s eyes narrowed the way they did when Caspar wasn’t getting something obvious. Like they were at the academy again, and he was asking whether nosferatu could regrow organs. Then he shook his head and sighed.

“Oh! Is that like—”

“Caspar. Just stop talking.”

Caspar bit his tongue. Okay, they’ll just figure it out without talking at all. It seemed like Linhardt was speaking in riddles again, fretting over the safety of his students.

“They’re really not ready for any kind of excursion. Remember my first year here, and most of the students didn’t know how to cast physic? This year, some of them barely know how to cast restore.” Linhardt’s eyes drifted to the distance, as though contemplating some thought that Caspar could never understand.

Tugging on his hand, Caspar looked at Linhardt, eyes searching. He knew something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

“Well, you’ve always had good instincts.” Linhardt continued, suddenly changing the subject and twining their fingers together. “I just have to trust you’ll keep your battalion out of trouble.” Then Linhardt leaned down and kissed him. Caspar’s eyes widened, nearly pushing him away out of fear that Jeritza or the archers would see, but Linhardt’s insistence made him melt into his embrace. He looked up at him when they broke apart, confusion playing across his face.

“Lin, why…?”

The taller man leaned in to nip at Caspar’s ear, warm breath on his cheeks. Caspar’s face burned.

“I’m afraid… I won’t get another chance.” His voice was a raspy whisper.

Caspar pulled away, looking at Linhardt. He studied the curve of his jaw, the colour of his eyes. Was this going to be the last time? No. It won’t be. Caspar’ll make sure of it.

“Don’t worry about that. You’ve got me on your side.” Caspar grinned at Linhardt, who only seemed to look exhausted. He took Caspar by the hand –wow, Linhardt’s hands were ice—and led them back to Jeritza. The archers were cleaning their ballistae for some reason. Another tick of wrongness to the day.

From their vantage point, they could see banners flying in the distance. It was General Stassen’s banners. They were weaving in and out of the forests on the hills surrounding Merceus. Why were they doing that? Something about the whole situation was wrong. He could see other banners. Alliance banners? An ache struck through his heart. He squeezed on Linhardt’s hand and Linhardt squeezed back, feebly.

“She’s here.” Jeritza spoke at last.

“Who, the professor?” Caspar asked, his eyes cutting up the battlefield to find her. Had she killed Ferdinand? Linhardt looked at him, reminding him. “It doesn’t matter.” He conceded, and Linhardt gave a little smile. It was apologetic, like he knew that their plan was getting in the way of Caspar’s own desires. Even if they were commanded to march out there to assist them, that would be the moment they would turn tail and run, to the place where alpine pasque grew.

“Open the gates and kill them all.”

Linhardt’s eyes grew, and his hands finally applied pressure on Caspar’s knuckles. He had grown pale, paler than his usual porcelain tone. Caspar couldn’t understand.

“Aren’t they our allies?”

Behind Jeritza, Linhardt was holding back tears. But they welled up and spilled over anyhow. Jeritza said nothing. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Is than an order?” Caspar pressed.

“Yes.” Jeritza turned his grotesque mask towards them. “Go to your stations. Release the demonic beasts.”

Linhardt was busy wiping away his tears, nodding as resolutely as he could manage. He was turning away, ready to go when Caspar caught him by the shoulders. “Hey, Lin, look at me.” Linhardt looked down, eyes still glassy. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna survive this.”

A soft smile graced his lips, and he kissed Caspar, so gently. The frantic kisses of the morning forgotten. Caspar had a thought. It was like they were old, standing on the edge of a pond, their hairs grey. They knew they were at the last station of their lives, but they were together. And the world was beautiful.

“We’re gonna travel the world and settle down together. By a pond and a forest. We’re gonna be okay.” Caspar smiled, his own muscles not quite responding. He felt something hot roll down his cheeks. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Linhardt kissed him again. When he spoke, his voice was crackly.

“No, we won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real from this point forward. Be prepared for some heartbreak, but trust that a happy ending is coming!


	12. Blue Sea Moon, 1185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt has a nightmare.

A scream rang through the cold empty walls of Linhardt’s bedroom. And then a sob, uncontrollable and choking.

“No, no!” A voice was screaming. Pain seared on Linhardt’s face in streaks, someone was scratching him, pulling at his face as though doing so could get it to rip off entirely.

More screaming, coming like a wail. A panicked voice calling his name.

“Lin! What’s wrong? Lin, answer me.” Rough hands grabbed his wrists and Linhardt fought them with all his might. No, it can’t be. He had to do something. But sleep had sapped him of his energy, and Linhardt flopped back down again, murmuring to himself. Nonsense mostly, about how everything’s going to be okay. Comforting Caspar.

“Hey, it’s okay Lin. I’m fine. I’m not bleeding out. It’s okay.” A voice was shushing him, murmuring the same nonsense back to him, saying impossible things.

He was there. Caspar bleeding out under the professor’s sword, her face an unreadable mask. That cold woman, how could she cut down her own students like they were nothing? Yet the last thing he saw was Claude lying crumpled on the ground, eyes glassy, staring into nothing, his wyvern crushing him. The professor was standing over him, that same unreadable expression, with Edelgard behind her.

“It’s okay, the professor’s dead. It’s okay. We’re winning the war. She’s not going to get me. Even if she were alive, she wouldn’t kill me. She wouldn’t kill any of us.” Caspar was whispering desperately at Linhardt, as though doing so could make the reality any less real.

“We’ll go travelling together. We’ll survive the war and go travelling.” Linhardt choked back a sob. Caspar could never know how dire the situation was. “We’ll go travelling.”

“We’ll go travelling.” Caspar agreed.

Slowly, Linhardt drifted back to the battlefield. The screaming, the shouts. He heard Ferdinand’s screech as he was fatally wounded. Where was he on the battlefield? Why couldn’t he find him? It was jarring, how undignified it sounded.

“Ferdie!” Linhardt’s voice was hoarse. “Ferdie! Baby, I’m here!”

But the battlefield was shifting, impossibly. Suddenly he was standing before Ferdinand’s corpse. Claude was flying on his wyvern above it, his face a tortured mask, tears streaming down uncontrolled.

Linhardt was standing on Fort Merceus, the scene at Myrddin melting like the hodgepodge of colours on Ignatz’s pallet. He was dressed in his scholar’s robes, immaculate. His students were behind him, afraid and quivering. Claude was before him, flying on his wyvern. His face was shocked for a moment, before it was concealed by a steely resolve.

“I’d rather not fight, yet avoiding it is more frustrating and fruitless than engaging in the battle itself.” Linhardt was saying. Why was he saying that? He needed to find Caspar. He’s bleeding out. Where was his blood? He should be covered in the stuff. But Linhardt was rushing ahead, a burst of white magic at his fingertips.

Claude looked almost apologetic as he raised his bow. “I never thought I’d have to face you… Old friend.”

“Agh!” Linhardt was falling. A searing pain pierced through his chest. It was bunching his muscles up. “Caspar, Caspar no!” He couldn’t feel Caspar’s presence on the battlefield, on the fort. Was he too late?

“Lin, Lin wake up. You’re having a nightmare again.” A concerned face came blearily into view. In the darkness, all he could see was Caspar’s eyebrows drawn up at an unusual angle, and his eyes crinkling. There were the first rays of cool sunshine coming through the window. No, that wasn’t sunshine. That was the Blue Sea Star, casting its pale blue glow into the room.

“Muh? Cas? Baby? You’re okay?” Linhardt laughed. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s get out of here, while we can. The professor’s comin’ back, with Claude. We’re done for. Let’s go travellin’ now.” Linhardt was getting out of bed, tripping and falling onto the rough rug on the floor.

“Woah! Hey, hey. There’s no rush.” 

“No, no. There’s no rush.”

“That’s right, we have time.”

“We have time.”

“Lin, why are you crying?”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay, just come here.”

“’Kay.”

He was back in bed, with the covers and Caspar making a tight cocoon around him.

“We can’t leave.” Caspar whispered. Something hot and wet was falling on Linhardt’s cheeks.

“Okay.”

“Edelgard will get us.”

“Yeah.”

“She made me promise. Her and Hubert. They came before you did, to tell me that it was my duty to keep you safe here. And part of keeping you safe.” A strangled sound. “Was to make sure you didn’t defect.”

“Right.”

“Were you going to defect?”

“Hardly.”

“Hubert set up your library then… He was so careful with all those old crumbling stuff.”

“That’s Hubert.”

“That’s Hubert.”

“You know, Edelgard’s threat was empty.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Why would she threaten you, but not me? She knew I’d figure it out. It was empty.”

“No. You don’t know danger when you see it.”

A scoff. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“You weren’t there Lin, she was dead serious.”

“Of course she was.” Linhardt sighed. His mind finally regathering around him. His dreams… Were they a prophesy of what’s to come, or were they a warning? Perhaps they were the dreams of another reality, one in which the professor returned after 5 long years of lying dead in rubble. But that would be impossible.

Regardless, Linhardt would heed them. He would pack everything he needed and leave with Caspar tomorrow.

A cloud passed over the moon. Or the star. Whatever the celestial light source was. The room was covered in a gentle inky black. Knowing what was true calmed Linhardt. Caspar was okay, he was already snoring away. Ferdinand was okay, he was probably in Hubert’s arms like he was in Caspar’s arms. Sweet Ferdinand. He didn’t deserve such a fate. He’ll save him too. He’ll write a letter in their shorthand, telling him to meet him in Hevring. They’ll leave the Empire together. Anything to escape this blasted war. Yeah, they’ll all be safe together.

Drifting back into sleep, Linhardt dreamt of warm covers and sunshine streaming through the windows. He dreamed that Caspar was beside him for once, instead out and about. He dreamed about napping in that perfect nest of warmth and light, dreaming of nothing.

During breakfast, Caspar kept looking at him, checking him over. When Linhardt fumbled with his cup of water, Caspar was so eager to help him that he knocked the cup clear out of his hand.

“Oops, heheh.”

Linhardt sighed. This was so unlike Caspar. “Just come out and say it. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Caspar was looking at him that way again. “Just… Do you remember what happened last night?”

“Oh that.” Linhardt remembered Caspar’s sweet moans under his tongue. “Gagging is normal. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” Caspar turned bright pink. It was downright sinful, how pink he was. Linhardt loved it.

“Did you forget? Shall I describe it in more detail?”

“N-no! Lin!” Caspar screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hands.

“I’ll take that as a no?”

“No! I mean yes! That’s confusing.” Caspar was lying face down on the table. It was a good thing today was Sunday, otherwise they’d be causing quite a commotion.

Linhardt smiled to himself. How could Caspar be so adorably embarrassed still? Would that never fade? He hoped it wouldn’t.

Caspar’s face popped up, all serious. “That wasn’t what I wanted to bring up, Lin. You’re always… Ugh!”

“What did you want to bring up? I’m curious.”

“Umm…” Caspar was playing with his food, an unlikely occurrence. “You had a nightmare. You were saying scary stuff.”

“Like what?” Their voices were low now, almost whispering.

“Like we’re all gonna die. Like Ferdinand’s gonna die. You said you loved him.”

Linhardt stiffened. “I what? No, you must be mistaken.”

“It’s okay, I don’t care about that.” Azure eyes were gazing into Linhardt’s soul, searching for something that had nothing to do with his prior trysts. “Do you remember now?”

“Frankly, not at all. I just remember dreaming of taking a nap in bed.” He laughed. Caspar didn’t. Even Linhardt felt something was wrong. On the edge of his memory was something so traumatic, his brain refused to touch it. He hated it when his mind got like this, ignoring something just because he couldn’t handle it yet.

“I guess… That’s good. That’s good, right? If you don’t remember, it doesn’t matter!”

“I wouldn’t say that.” But Linhardt smiled, nonetheless. “Shall we finish breakfast and go for a stroll?”

“Yeah! I love patrolling!”

“That’s not…” Caspar was digging in, food particles flying everywhere in his attempts to inhale the food. Linhardt smiled to himself. “Alright then, patrolling it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, it gets increasingly difficult to write Linhardt's sections as the story gets closer to the conclusion. His sections are just more light-hearted, by virtue of occurring more than a year before the major conflict. I think if I were to write this story again, I'd structure it a bit differently.
> 
> You and live and you learn.


	13. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle begins!

“Sirs!” A cavalry member rode up to the trio, one of Jeritza’s, probably. “Enemy troops are coming in from the north. It looks like a small Alliance platoon pursued by a fleet of… Uh. Almyran forces? Their army nearly ranks that of General Stassen’s.”

Jeritza said nothing in response, merely flicking his wrist to dismiss the man.

Caspar looked at Linhardt, interlocking their fingers together. He tried to give him a meaningful look. Once they survived this, they’ll slip out in the confusion of the aftermath. Based on how few of the enemy troops there were, Merceus would be safe for sure. Still, Caspar felt a twinge of guilt. He wouldn’t have time to say goodbye to his students, nor would it be wise. But Linhardt looked away, staring at his healers, then at the ground, his tears drying up. 

“To your positions.” Jeritza repeated, with more urgency.

“Be careful out there, Lin.” Caspar couldn’t help saying. He was going to be closer to the Alliance infiltrators and the Almyrans. It was hard to tell whether they’d be able to strike up a momentary ally with the Almyrans, so as far as he was concerned, Linhardt was really in the danger zone.

“Don’t worry, we have a demonic beast on our side.” He smiled with a complicated emotion in his eyes. Then he disappeared around the bend.

His heart was aching. He had no idea why. He just knew that he and Linhardt shouldn’t be separated. Not now, not with Linhardt like this. Why were their positions on opposite wings of this damned fort? Why didn’t they reposition for the greeting? Especially if Jeritza knew something was amiss.

When he made his way to his battalions, he was antsy. General Stassen’s troops were filing in, he could see. The Alliance soldiers seemed to have vanished as the sound of skirmishing disappeared. Where was the northern Alliance troop? From his vantage point, he could barely see anything. They were likely crossing through the town. He hoped that the citizens were not harmed. This had nothing to do with them. If they hurt the townsfolk, Caspar had even more reason to strike them down.

A fight was breaking out between General Stassen’s troops and the troops of Merceus, probably at the insane commands of Jeritza. He could hear the clash of metal and the shouts of battle.

“That is not General Stassen’s army. That is the Alliance, masquerading.” Jeritza’s voice broke above the din of battle. That explained a lot.

Caspar tightened his grip and got ready to command his battalion to march forward.

“Stand your ground.” Jeritza commanded.

Grinding this teeth together, Caspar glared at him. He couldn’t break the chain of command. That would cause so much chaos, his battalion would never recover. What was he thinking anyways? His battalion could barely hold their own. The best course of action was to protect them as best he could and meet with Linhardt when it was all over. Perhaps a tactical retreat?

At this point, Caspar was in more danger than Linhardt. The thought calmed him. This was what he was used to. He should be on the frontlines, bearing down on his enemy, striking fear into their hearts. He relished with the memory of fear painted on the faces of his enemies in the past. This was what he was born to do.

He couldn’t tell what was going on, but he saw that the demonic beast fell thanks to the work of a bow wielder in yellow. That must be Claude. Caspar was relieved at the sight. The man was practically best friends with Linhardt when they were at the academy. Even in the throes of war, the two would never kill each other. If Claude was the commander, Linhardt would be safe. He only hoped Linhardt would have an excuse to retreat somehow.

Seeing the Almyran forces made Caspar’s breath hitch again. Oh no, they were working together. He had half a mind to rush over and take them down himself. He would never forgive himself if Linhardt died at the hands of foreigners who had no right to be on Fódlan soil. But Jeritza was standing coolly, in the middle of the fort, giving no indication of any invasion happening at the moment. How could he not care? This was his home of three years as well!

“Over here! We’ll cover this wing next!” A familiar voice called out from the south wing. Caspar was surprised that anyone’s voice could be so full and loud.

“I will be guarding this post, Dorothea.” Another voice shouted, much more muffled.

Dorothea, right. He once considered her a sister. She was a better sister than his family ever was. And now they must face each other in battle?

“Don’t run ahead, Dorothea. I hafta be protectin’ ya!” Another familiar voice.

They were drawing closer now. Caspar gripped his axe in anticipation. He looked back at his battalion and said, “Leave it to me kids. You’ll get to see your general in action!”

His battalion didn’t look fazed at all. In fact, some of the girls were smiling at him in an odd way.

Oh, oh no. The person his students were attached to was him, wasn’t it? All the more reason to protect them, and not let them down.

No time for much more thoughts, as he saw a crimson figure come into view. It was Dorothea. She’d grown, and she was beautiful. Her eyes were filled with sadness. Caspar wanted to comfort her, but he also felt a blaze of anger. No, hatred.

Was it her who had struck down Ferdinand at Myrddin? Any of these people, these people he considered friends once, could have been the murderer of Ferdinand. Had they no heart, to kill their own friends, their own family? None of them were flesh and blood, but the bonds they forged should have been more than enough to stop them from cutting down Ferdinand in cold blood. He glared at Dorothea, watching her form a meteor in the air.

“Did you have to kill a lot of your friends to get here? ‘Cause I’m gonna give this fight everything I’ve got!” Caspar shouted. He was indignant, he didn’t care. So what if his students saw this? They needed to know the realities of war.

No response came, instead a meteor dropped onto Caspar and his battalions. It was scorching hot, he felt his skin melt against the metal of his armour. He hated magic. He was on the ground, struck down by the weight of the meteor. When he got up, he realized most of his students were down too. Running into the midst of his battalion, he saw that some of the students who were down would never get back up again. A searing anger flashed through him. He was going to end Dorothea. Sister or not, she was going to pay.

“I’ve had enough. It is time to leave.”

He saw Jeritza riding towards him. Typical, he always turned tail when things became too difficult. It was with some shock that Caspar realized Almyran troops were gathered at the centre of the fort, chasing Jeritza. That meant they had broken through the north wing. Where was Linhardt?

Helping up a few more students, Caspar signalled to the other commanders that they were falling back. He had to find Linhardt.

They were near the northwest exit when he saw Claude swoop in to shoot at Jeritza. Caspar saw the glint of medals pinned onto his coat. One of them was the pin of the Black Eagles, a gift given to Ferdinand for his hard work.

So it was Claude. Claude took down Ferdinand.

A wordless roar ripped out of Caspar. Claude was going down.

But Jeritza was putting his hand up, signalling for Caspar to retreat. Caspar was rushing forward, ready to cut down Claude. The man looked at him with an unreadable expression as he ascended into the air, out of reach.

Caspar roared again. It hurt him, but not his throat. It hurt his chest, like his heart was breaking and he was screaming in pain instead of anger.

A hand touched his arm. “Sir? What should we do?”

He whirled around to glare at whoever dared touch him. He was met with the tear streaked eyes of his students. Some of them were supporting each other, blood running down their faces and armour. Many more were behind them, unmoving on the ground.

He had to survive this. He had to find Linhardt.

“We retreat.” The words felt like ash on his tongue.

His battalion members looked at each other, sharing looks he couldn’t read. Relief? Disbelief? But retreat they did. Jeritza ran down the walls of Merceus onto the mountains below, other battalions were already swarming out the exit. He signalled his battalions to follow suit. He had half a heart to search the area for Linhardt before the enemies could get to him, if he was hurt. But knowing Linhardt, he and his students probably left already. That man could survive through anything. All he had to do was meet him on the other side.

In the chaos of their retreat, Caspar’s battalion completely lost their formation. With so many gaps and little training on keeping formation in the face of losses, he wasn’t surprised. Some students tried to keep in line, finding themselves stuck at certain intersections. “Forget about ranks, just move!” Caspar shouted above the clank of boots and hooves. Like liquid, his students dissolved into a formless mass, rushing out of the exit.

They were abandoning Merceus. He was never going to live this down from his father. Not like it mattered. He tried to be the last to leave. For a moment, he thought about putting up a fight. But he had to find Linhardt. Linhardt was out there, he had to find him.

As the last of his students filed through the door, and no other allies were within sight, Caspar knew he was defeated. Merceus was lost. He turned and ran out the gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that Linhardt and Claude would make great friends, and after seeing a comic about their interactions, it just kinda became my head-canon? Why shouldn't my favourite boys be friends?


	14. Wyvern Moon, 1185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt's nightmares stop, and he becomes a pumpkin.

As abruptly as they came, the nightmares stopped.

Linhardt was overjoyed, being able to sleep at all hours of the day and night again. Something had shifted, though Linhardt didn’t know what and couldn’t care about it either. He spent most of his mornings sleeping, feigning sickness and allowing Caspar or Jeritza to take his morning classes on “observation” or “field training” and independent study days when both were tired of covering for him. Linhardt supposed he could sleep earlier at night, but with his vigor renewed from a proper sleep cycle, he was eagerly throwing himself into his research. He doubted Edelgard would ever see it, but with his transcriptions all completed, he could actually start puzzling out what was meant in these texts and what effects crests could possibly have on humans. He barely slept until well after the midnight chime rang. When he woke, it was usually noon.

Today was one such day. Sunlight streaming lazily through the window, hitting Linhardt’s arm. In Caspar’s absence, he found it easy to take up the whole bed. This would have never been permissible had the broader man been there. Caspar usually took up all the space on the bed whether Linhardt was there or not. Or perhaps Caspar only sprawled out like so because Linhardt never made his way to bed in time. Linhardt rolled in Caspar’s usual spot. Even though the man himself wasn’t there, Linhardt still felt close to him just by virtue of lying on his side of the bed. He was jostled slightly when he heard the noon bell ring.

The door creaked open, and a blue blob peeked in.

“You awake yet, Lin?”

Oh yes, he was awake. He let a soft groan elicit from his lips instead of saying anything. Perhaps he could tempt Caspar to bed?

“I have sooooup!” Caspar was tempting Linhardt to a different task. Getting up.

“Ugh…”

“It’s onion gratin soup!” Caspar was almost singing in that raspy crackly voice of his. He was no Dorothea, that’s for sure.

“Come to bed.”

“Lin, it’s noon.” The bed shifted from a weight setting down on it.

“Exactly.” Linhardt stretched, twisting his hips with a satisfying click. “One hour until class starts.”

“Knowing you, it’d take more than that to get ready.”

“That’s not true. I’ll dress really fast if you pay some attention to me.” Linhardt opened his eyes now, trying to look seductive through sticky eyelashes.

Caspar laughed. “Lin, you’ve got sleep in your eyes.” He reached out to cup his face. “C’mon, let’s get up.”

“Ugh. Who cares? This war is almost over. These kids won’t ever see battle. What’s the point?”

“Yeah, I agree.” A surprise.

“Edelgard should just dismiss us already.” Linhardt tested.

“I don’t see how it matters to you.” Caspar was laughing again. A forceful, happy sound. “You’re just gonna be in bed all day anyways!” Then, Linhardt was being tackled and tickled mercilessly.

“No! Caspar no!” Linhardt wheezed between giggles.

“Ready to submit?”

“Never!”

“No! Don’t tickle me back! Ah, Lin!”

Linhardt smirked. Caspar was ticklish the most on his hips, which made it an easy transition to pawing at his dick.

“Don’t do that! It’s confusing!”

“Oh? How so?” He was untying his trousers, eager to toy with him.

“Just… Like tickling and—Ah!”

With the trousers no longer an obstacle, Linhardt could toy with Caspar’s member to his heart’s content.

“Okay, no more.” Caspar pushed Linhardt’s hand away, not forcefully, but enough.

Linhardt sat up. “What’s the matter?”

Caspar’s face was flushed, though not out of arousal. “It’s just… It’s like, not clean.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Like… You’ve been keeping odd hours so… I’ve been touching myself a lot. And um… Sometimes I don’t like…”

“Caspar.”

“Just… A lot of guys do it okay? You wouldn’t clean yourself if I don’t do it for you!”

“Are you saying… You don’t wipe yourself after cumming?”

Caspar was looking down like a child.

“So you just… Let it all sit?”

“A lot of guys do it! Raphael said he does it! And Ignatz too!”

“Uh.” Linhardt nearly gagged at the thought.

“You think it’s gross.”

“To be honest, yes.” Linhardt sat up and stretched. “Thanks for the warning. But I really must insist you start cleaning after yourself from now on. I promise I’ll be… more available at night.”

“And the morning?”

“Mm, maybe not the morning.”

“Aww, I miss dressing you in the morning!”

“You can dress me now.”

“It’s not the same!”

Linhardt smiled, reaching for the soup and having a spoonful.

Caspar watched him, smiling. Honestly, the man looked a little dumb. Like a puppy looking at his owner, waiting for pets.

“What?”

“What what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just happy I guess? It’s good to see you getting enough sleep.” Caspar’s mouth twisted a little. “And not having nightmares.”

The soup went unnoticed for a moment, hunger put on the backburner. “I must admit, that’s been a relief to me too.”

“I wish there was something we could do about those nightmares!”

“Hm. They only started after I came to Merceus. So maybe it’s a sign we should leave.”

“Lin, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Don’t look so down.” Linhardt chided. “It’s not about defecting. It’s about us not having a cause ever since the Faerghus spine broke.”

“Mmm… I guess…” Caspar was drawing out his words, contemplating.

“I’m sure if we wrote to Edelgard, she may acquiesce to our departure.”

“Really?” Caspar perked up.

“Yes, I believe so. Though it’s unfortunate the students I’ve been teaching for the last 6 months won’t see the second half of my curriculum.”

“They won’t see it anyways, with you in bed all the time!” Caspar grinned at him. “Lazy bum.”

“I deserved that.” Linhardt went back to digging into the soup. The caramelized onions were just divine. So sweet and deep. The thought made Linhardt wonder what food from other places were like. He wanted to see where noa fruits grew naturally.

“You wanna send the letter, or me?”

“I’ll do it.” What would make Hubert say yes to this? If he found a replacement maybe? Or if he convinced Ferdinand to sweeten the deal a little. Certainly if he dangled the prospect of him being more productive at his research.

“Ready to get up?”

Placing the mostly empty dish on the night table, Linhardt took Caspar’s hands and got pulled up. He stretched again and began looking for an appropriate outfit that wasn’t a repeat of yesterday.

“I’m gonna put the dish away. I’ll walk you to class after, okay?”

“Okay.”

It was just like old times again. The chill in the air was not unlike the draft in his dorm during their academy days. Sleeping until noon? Definitely something he only got away with in Professor Hanneman’s class. And Caspar’s offer to walk him to class was just another integral part of being a student, even if it meant it made him late.

Part of Linhardt regretted not joining the professor’s class –Byleth’s class. Everyone that was interesting was there. Lysithea, Marianne, and Claude. All three people intrigued him in different ways. Eventually, Dorothea, Petra, and Bernadetta were there too. But in a way, he was glad he didn’t. Who could guess where he’d be now if he hadn’t been loyal to the Empire? Bernadetta was allowed to stay with her family, but she’s practically under house arrest. Being forced to spend any amount of time with his father would be infuriating at best.

Linhardt was shrugging on his coat when Caspar burst in, all energy.

“Let’s go!”

A fond smile played on Linhardt’s lips. When had he gotten so sentimental? How unlike him.

“So about your letter… When’re you gonna send it?”

“Hmm.” The din of students and soldiers walking and chatting in Fort Merceus was familiar somehow, like Garreg Mach. “Soon. Maybe in a fortnight.”

“That’s not soon! You should send it tomorrow!”

“Okay, tomorrow.”

“And then where do you wanna go first?”

He didn’t think before he spoke. “Garreg Mach.”

“Linhardt, that sounds like—”

“I miss it. I want to see our old school.”

Caspar made a noise. “Even if it’s a ruin, it still sounds…” 

“You’re right.” Linhardt sighed. “But I’m sure there’s no harm in visiting the place.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice was telling him this was the right thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH, how Linhardt dresses in the morning is how I dress in the morning.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar and his battalion escape from Fort Merceus, but Linhardt's fate is unknown.

Caspar joined the rest of those who escaped Fort Merceus. Having finally made it out, his battalion collapsed into sobbing students or walked as shell-shocked spectres. It was second nature to go to them and comfort them.

“Brawlers, brigands!” His classes came to him, Commander Weinmann nowhere in sight. “C’mon, fighters!” He looked at his students, fraying at the seams or utterly broken. “Chin up.”

Sniffling faces looked up at him. His father’s words won’t help him now. But it was all he had.

“Chin up, fighters. This is war.” Caspar recomposed himself. Couldn’t let the anger show. “We’ll be faced with all sorts of ugly scenes on the field. People dying. People you know dying. That’s the worst part. So you gotta just look up and keep going. You just gotta keep going, or you’ll end up dead too.”

More sobs broke out, but some faces were determined. These would be the soldiers of the future. One kid looked like he was ready to punch him in the face. A girl close to him held his arm, holding him back. This kid in particular would go far.

“Let’s find General Hrym. We need to set up camp.” Caspar surveyed the burn marks on everyone’s faces. “And get some healers.”

Caspar was leading his battalions to where a clump of cavaliers were gathered. He assumed Jeritza would be in the centre of his battalion, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey you!” Caspar called to a boy petting his mount in soothing tones.

“Sir!”

“Have you seen Jer—General Hrym?”

“Yessir. He’s standin’ by the… the walls.”

Caspar looked towards the tall walls of Merceus. Now they belonged to another. Jeritza was clearly out of his mind. As the second-in-command, Caspar knew he had to take over. But first, he had to check in with Jeritza. As much as he loathed it, breaking the chain of command would definitely throw everything into disarray.

“Fighters, get into formation.” His battalions were lost on spacing. Damn it. “Right marker!” Caspar called. He brought them through a few drills, heart aching seeing the empty spaces before fighters shuffled to fill in the gaps. It was the least he could do to keep order. He put them at stand easy and left to talk with Jeritza.

“Jeritza, what are you--?” Caspar couldn’t finish his question. He was looking at Alliance and Almyran troops spilling out of the northeast entrance as though their life depended on it.

“Let’s go.” Jeritza said.

“Are we setting up camp? The kids’ll need it.”

“No. We’re marching to Enbarr.”

Caspar choked on his next words. “The kids.”

“Those who are weak, will die. Those who are strong, will survive.”

Caspar could smack the man. Instead, he gripped his fists so tight, he could hear his metal gauntlets grind. “Is that an order?” He spat out, screwing his eyes shut.

“Yes. Gather the troops. We march on my command.”

Damn the man. Caspar didn’t want to see that hideous mask ever again. He wanted to throttle him. These were just kids. If they were full-fledged soldiers who knew the cost of war, who had seen the cost of war, that would be a different issue entirely. Adults were allowed to make these decisions for themselves; whether to live or die. But children? Most of the boys could barely grow facial hair! They were boys and girls, not men and women. They were children, who needed to be nurtured. Caspar himself had barely thought truly about his death in his academy days. But looking back, he was glad Hanneman was there to pull him back. He didn’t know the worth of his own life.

Jeritza was walking away, stalking around the fort, looking at the sky aimlessly.

Shaking his head, Caspar ran to the middle of where their troops were loosely gathered around. His battalion was the only one with any semblance of order. All the other battalions were huddled in clumps, with outliers straying, wandering.

“Fort Merceus Troops! Listen up!” Caspar called over the din. His voice was hoarse from shouting, hurting him. “Gather up your kits and tend to your wounds. We’ll be moving soon. Hevring Prayer Group, start healing those who are most wounded. Senior members, organize your platoons so the most injured get care first. Understood?”

He heard a scattered “Yessir”, mostly from his own battalions. Good enough, he thought. Then, he was rushing to Linhardt’s battalion to oversee the whole thing. Linhardt had likely turned tail already. He shouldn’t keep him waiting, but he had to see this through. Right now, the kids’ safety mattered the most. More than his new life with Linhardt.

“Hevring Prayer Group, what’s your status? Everyone doing okay?”

A teary-eyed girl came up to Caspar. “Sir, ready to debrief.”

Alright, they were going formal. “Carry on.”

“Sir. Mr. Hevring fell in Fort Merceus. I…”

The rest of the report faded. The rest of the fort faded. His head was spinning, and he felt like he could throw up. Before he knew it, he was running to the entrance of Merceus. His home, their home. Linhardt was still inside!

“Caspar!” Jeritza called, having doffed his maniacal mask.

Caspar didn’t answer, but a whistling sound in the air stopped him. He looked up and sure enough, javelins of light were falling, just like Linhardt said they would. He stood far too close to the fort, oblivious to the flames erupting and the thunderous sound of old, fortified walls collapsing.

When it was all over, Caspar’s ears were ringing, and his throat was burning. His eyes were burning, his cheeks were burning. Every part of his face felt like it was on fire. He really should have invested in a helmet.

“General Bergliez!” One of his students was gripping his arm, nearly hugging him. Who was it?

It was Bianca, burn marks on the side of her neck. Was she crying?

“General Bergliez, are you okay?”

Caspar couldn’t respond. How long had he been standing here?

“Stop screaming, General Bergliez. Please, stop screaming…”

He wanted to say don’t cry, but nothing came. Was he screaming?

“It’s okay… We’re all here… Please stop…”

When the ringing in Caspar’s ears cleared, he realized that it was indeed his voice, hoarse and cracking, that was causing the cacophony. It was him screaming “Lin”, over and over.

But he couldn’t stop. He would never stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me when I say there'll be a happy ending.


	16. Red Wolf Moon, 1185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt goes camping (and he's not happy about it).

“No, no, no!” Linhardt was rarely this agitated, but his tent collapsing for the third time was enough to drive him over the edge. Why did they have to accompany Caspar’s class to a hunting expedition anyway? There was enough food, between Gronder and the vast plains of Gloucester. And didn’t harvest just happen? Besides, they were getting to the point where their students were becoming proficient enough to go hunting for wolves without healers at their side. And even if they did, why did Linhardt have to come along?

Muttering to himself most uncharacteristically, Linhardt barged into Caspar’s tent, which was nothing like a general’s tent. It was properly set-up, at least. He crawled in, finding the sleep roll pushed to the corner. Ugh. Linhardt took some time to ruffle the thing out. In the cramped space, it was difficult to lay it out just right, but he managed. Once the sleep roll was adequately smoothed out, he began fumbling for a blanket, which was folded up messily in the same corner.

Forget dinner. Linhardt was going straight to sleep. They marched most of the afternoon. It was the worst.

He was settling into his pillow when Caspar crawled in looking for something.

“Woah! Lin?” Linhardt was being poked now, by a not so delicate finger.

“Mmm… Let me sleep.”

“You’re in my tent! What happened to yours?”

“Couldn’t set it up.”

Without further word, Caspar left, taking his kit with him.

When Linhardt woke again, it was pitch dark. Caspar was settling in beside him, all angles and pushing at him. It was annoying. For a moment, Linhardt had a flash of irritation, and was tempted to nudge Caspar back. But this was Caspar’s tent, and these tents and bedrolls were really made for one person. It wasn’t like they were small either. Caspar was a big guy, with broad shoulders; and Linhardt was awkwardly tall. It made everything worse.

Caspar’s struggling roused Linhardt in the end.

“Stop it, Cas. Just let me—” Linhardt reached over, trying to grasp the lantern. He’ll light it with magic once he reached his hand inside.

“It’s fine!”

It was definitely not fine, as Linhardt’s hand came away wet with a distinctly sharp pain on his knuckles.

“Caspar! What’s wrong with your lantern?”

“Huh?”

Metal clinked on metal. Some fumbling with flint and the lantern was lit. Linhardt’s hand was bleeding from a gash on his knuckles, a jagged edge on the lantern reflected a dark, sticky liquid.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh Goddess!” Caspar was scrambling about, grabbing his kit. He took out some bandages and began wrapping Linhardt’s hand.

“Stop, stop.” Irritated, Linhardt searched through his friend’s pack for disinfectant and ointment. A folded up piece of parchment and a package of smoked meat tumbled out along with the disinfectant. No ointment was to be found. This would scar, Linhardt griped to himself.

Caspar was shakily ripping off the bloodied bandages, which had done their job at soaking up the excess blood that was making the healer queasy.

When Linhardt had satisfactorily cleaned his wound, he held out his hand expectantly. Now Caspar could do his work. He couldn’t stand to look at the red liquid oozing out of him a moment longer.

“I’m so sorry Lin… I should have switched out this lantern ages ago.” He was applying firm pressure as he wrapped Linhardt’s hand.

“I came all the way out here, just to be hurt by a lantern…”

“Sorry…”

To distract himself from the pain, Linhardt fumbled open the parchment that had tumbled out. He barely had time to get through the first few words before Caspar nearly shouted.

“Don’t read that!”

“Why?” Linhardt was quick to counter.

“I-it’s… Personal!”

The injured man had to smile. Caspar was never any good at lying. Besides, what kind of personal letter began with “General Bergliez”? As he skimmed his smile faded.

“What is the meaning of this, Caspar?” Linhardt turned to his friend. He couldn’t keep the worry out of his face. “Why is Hubert saying we haven’t ‘lived out our usefulness’?”

Caspar tied the bandage at the end neatly, and with nothing to distract him, he began fiddling with the edge of their blanket. “I… I don’t know.”

“So he deigned to respond to you, but not me, the sender of the original letter?”

Caspar reached out to grasp the parchment, but Linhardt reeled back. In the limited space, Caspar could have easily taken it out of his hand, but he retracted too.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Linhardt spoke, “I suppose that means we can’t leave anytime soon.” He plopped down into their bedding once more. “Why did you keep this from me?”

“I…” The raspy voice fell silent. “I don’t know.”

Linhardt appraised him carefully. There was some content in the letter that made little sense. Things like, “Remember your promise to Lady Edelgard” and references to his “duty to Linhardt”. What kind of nonsense was Hubert going off about? He assumed this was about Caspar, but why address it in a letter that refused their request to leave the army? And what further usefulness could they possibly have, now that victory was at hand? Though he supposed it made sense for them to stay until the end of the war. It had to be soon, and Caspar was worth the wait.

“Uh… Lin? Are you awake still?” When he grabbed for the letter, it was readily plucked.

“Not anymore.” Linhardt turned away, trying to take up as little space as possible. When he felt Caspar fidget beside him, he scooted further away. All this was so tiresome. He was ready to sleep.

“Okay…” Then the lantern was extinguished.

On their expedition the next day, Linhardt couldn’t help but try to plan out his next steps. He still wanted to leave before the war officially ended. Although he was pretty much living a life of leisure, he was tired of morning lectures, field training, and not enough time for his research. He’d already contributed to the war effort enough, he should think. Now, he just wanted to live life at his own pace. Was that too much to ask? Underneath all that, he just felt like it was the right thing to do, to leave Fort Merceus.

Some of his more useless students were following him, rooting around in the mountains picking the last herbs before winter. If they couldn’t heal using magic, the least they could do was make vulnaries and concoctions.

“Mr. Hevring,” One of his students called, “I think General Bergliez is calling for you.”

“Hmm?” Sure enough, Caspar was running towards their group, shouting his name. Linhardt raised his hand in a lazy wave. Was the first hunt of the day already done? Without the bells of Fort Merceus, it was easy to lose track of all sense of time. It was rather relaxing.

“Lin!” Caspar grasped his hand and all but dragged him away from his students.

“What is it, Caspar? Is there an emergency?” Though if there had been, Linhardt was certain a runner would have been sent.

“No, I just…” Caspar fell silent once they were out of earshot of his students.

But Linhardt had lost focus. There were splendid crimson blooms on the rocky ground, amidst the sparse snow. He knew the plant, alpine pasque. He thought they grew a fair ways higher, but here was a rocky crag full of them! He read that their roots acted as a fine binding agent. Would they finally allow him to try his hand at the fabled elixir?

“Linhardt, are you listening?”

His focus snapped back. Was Caspar addressing him… seriously?

“I’m trying to… Well, okay, just listen alright?”

Linhardt nodded.

“That letter you saw? I mean. Okay. So, Hubert made me promise that I would take care of you until the war ended. I guess he just thought it’d be best to stay here, where it’s safer? Like Faerghus fell, but it’s still not really safe. I know Sylvain and Felix are out there punching people or whatever. And we’re launching an attack on Derdriu as soon as our next class graduates in like, Great Tree Moon. And I know you don’t like to feel like you’re being controlled or manipulated or whatever. So I didn’t wanna tell you. ‘Cause then you’d be writing a second letter, and Hubert would be writing a second letter, and I’d be kinda stuck in the middle? I really don’t like—”

Caspar was rambling. But after a kiss, he was turning beet red and saying nothing. It was quite cute, how alarmed and flustered he was from just a simple kiss. As though they hadn’t been sharing a bed for nearly a year now.

“Linny! Your students!” Caspar sputtered.

Linhardt shrugged. “I couldn’t care less.”

“But!”

“It’s fine.” Linhardt gave him a small smile. “Help me pick these flowers?”

Having something to do always helped Caspar refocus. Soon they were picking enough to fill Linhardt’s basket, although about half its contents were not alpine pasque, but random weeds that Caspar thought looked close enough.

He’d better remember this location. It would be a good idea to come back the next time they had an expedition, to refill his stocks. Without thinking about it more, an idea ran through Linhardt’s mind.

“If we ever decide to run away,” Linhardt began, “We should rendezvous here.”

Caspar looked like he was about to object but shut his mouth and nodded. Linhardt was glad for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some really shitty stuff is happening in my life right now, but writing has been keeping me sane. Unfortunately, the next chapters will likely be shorter. My apologies in advance.


	17. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Body horror

Despite Jeritza’s multiple orders to the contrary, Caspar was picking through Fort Merceus with a fervour. All his students were marching onwards to Enbarr, to safety. But Caspar was here, with the afternoon sun beating down his back, pushing slabs of stone aside and shouting Linhardt’s name in a hoarse whisper. He’d completely lost his voice, he didn’t care. He liked the pain.

The whole fort was in shambles. Gone was anything that reminded Caspar of his home. The walls were gone, everything was gone. Just a smoking, heaping mess. For a moment, Caspar imagined himself as a ghost, walking through the remains of some husk. Pay attention, he tried to chide himself. But it was never as effective as Linhardt. 

Something caught his eye. A black boot sticking out of the wreckage at an awkward angle. The gold trimming was still shining, somehow.

“Lin?” Caspar forced out a shout.

Was he too late? There was rubble all over where his body would be. Something about that boot just didn’t look right.

As he got closer, he realized the boot was connected to nothing. It wasn’t Linhardt. It was just his boot. Caspar didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened. Was Linhardt’s student wrong then? He imagined Linhardt hobbling around, missing a boot, waiting for him by the craggy steppes where those red flowers grew. He’d better take the boot with him.

When he picked it up, it was much heavier than he thought it should be. Had Caspar tired himself out so thoroughly? It smelled like burned flesh.

With a start, Caspar threw the boot to the ground.

The foot was still in it.

The image of Linhardt hobbling around changed. Now he was bleeding out, missing a foot from the ankle down. Somehow Caspar just couldn’t believe it. He was digging through the rubble for Linhardt again. Hoping he found him. Hoping he didn’t.

“General? General Bergliez!”

That girl again, Bianca. Why won’t she leave him the fuck alone? She was mumbling something or other about heading out, but Caspar didn’t care. What was there to care for? Linhardt was gone. He was somewhere in the rubble, and he’ll never find him. It didn’t matter what happened before, or what happened next. Linhardt was gone, and there was no future for Caspar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep trusting me on that happy ending! Shenanigans will happen, but everything will turn out alright.


	18. Ethereal Moon, 1185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt has one final dream.

Linhardt was dead.

No, he would be dead if he stayed at Fort Merceus.

Or, he might be dead. It was possible for him to live, however slim.

An image of sunrise, with Claude smiling fondly at the professor, at Byleth. And Byleth herself, crying, happy.

Everyone was there. They were fighting bandits. Like the good old days. He saw Marianne and Hilda embrace each other, nearly kissing each other. And he saw Lysithea’s eyes light up as they rounded on Cyril. He saw Caspar running into the midst of the Blue Lion’s house, looking for Ashe.

The professor was next to him now.

“I’m coming back Linhardt. You and Caspar should join me.”

Linhardt shook his head. But the professor misunderstood him.

“Flayn told me about you. We need you as much as anyone. And, well, it was the only way I could reach you.”

“I need to stay with Caspar.”

Was that sadness on her face? But Professor Byleth said nothing, just walked back into the midst of all their friends, finally smiling.

Were they his friends? These were his enemies. Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid were the greatest opposers to the Empire’s slow encroachment of Faerghus. They were the backbone of the Faerghus Spine.

And Claude. Oh, the man was smiling at him. Linhardt wanted to smile back, but what Claude said stopped him.

“I’m going to kill you, Linhardt. I won’t want to, but I will.”

Linhardt stumbled back, onto the ground of Fort Merceus. The sunlight was blinding him, and Claude was flying away. He was bleeding out. He could almost laugh.

This was a dream, wasn’t it?

An image of Caspar fighting wildly on cobblestone streets, arrows protruding everywhere, magical burns blemishing his face. One of his eyes was sealed shut. It was Enbarr, and the enemy was advancing. Then he fell there, an anonymous soldier who’d sold his life to war. And for what?

“Join us, Linhardt. It’s the only way.”

An image entered Linhardt’s mind. He and Caspar were old, standing on the edge of a pond, their hairs turning grey. They knew they were at the last station of their lives, but they were together. And the world was beautiful.

Linhardt wasn’t convinced, but he had to try.

With a start, he was in the world of the living again. No, the world of the waking.

Caspar stirred next to him, shrouded in darkness.

But soon, it will be dawn.

“What’s the matter, Lin?” Caspar sat up, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

Linhardt stared ahead, processing what he’d just witnessed. Without warning, he blurted out, “We shouldn’t be here. We should be with the professor.”

It was the only way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter calls back to a lot of events that have already happened in this story. Just tying up loose threads. 
> 
> BTW, love everyone's response to this story. Really keeps me going :)


	19. Harpstring Moon, 1186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar grieves.

“Are you trying to tell me,” Caspar cleared his throat, but it only sent another burning pain through him, “That we were just bait? To bide time?” The other commanders –only 3 left—cleared their throats uncomfortably. No one stepped in to say anything.

“It was not how I hoped today would turn out.” Jeritza replied evenly.

“You dastard!” Caspar was pouncing on him now. He’d wreck that pretentious mask of his. “Linhardt died for nothing!”

Sidestepping him easily, Jeritza looked down at Caspar with the smallest tinge of sadness. Or did his eyes always look that way? Like they were tired and ready to cry?

“He died for nothing.” He was sobbing now, curled into a pathetic ball, not caring how he looked in front of the other commanders.

“Leave us.”

A smattering of objections, but soon enough, the ground crunched around Caspar, and the murmuring of voices faded.

“We are going to Enbarr, to consolidate our forces.” Jeritza held a hand out, then retracted it. “You are… free to leave if you so desire.”

“I do not.” Caspar was going to make them pay, make all of them pay. They killed Linhardt, for no other reason than to kill him. They were going down. By his own hand, he’d ensure every last one of them paid for Linhardt’s life.

Unexpectedly, Jeritza crouched next to Caspar. “Good.” A pause that lasted so long, Caspar thought that would be the end of their conversation. “I am glad to have you on my side.”

When Caspar arrived at Enbarr but a week’s march later, most of his battalions had dispersed or died to their injuries. He’d buried Bianca himself, the only person that he felt deserved a better burial than what she was given.

Hubert was there to greet him, wearing all black with a white handkerchief around his arm. Whether he was mourning Ferdinand or Linhardt, Caspar couldn’t care. They were dead, weren’t they? What did they care whether Hubert mourned them or not?

As soon as Merceus fell, everyone knew it was the end. No one wanted to say it, and no one wanted to desert, but everyone knew the next battle would be their last.

Caspar always knew his last fight would come. But he’d rather do it, facing down the cretin who’d slain Linhardt, than run away like a coward.

He would make them pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter of angst and uncertainty before the dawn.


	20. In Another Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story concludes with Byleth.

Byleth stepped out into the crisp morning air. Despite it being Harpstring Moon, there was still a chill in the air.

Feeling the coolness on her skin, hearing birdcall around her in the monastery, she could barely believe that just a mere six months ago, she had been asleep in rubble, hanging between life and death as her body regenerated.

“Hey friend,” Claude’s voice came gently beside her. Despite their heartfelt reunion, neither felt quite ready to address the depth of their feelings for one another. One day, they would, after the war.

Byleth turned to face him, finding a smile warming her face, happiness blooming in her heart. She greeted him in turn, and they began walking towards the dining hall for breakfast. Morning chime had gone, a melodic series of bells pealing out to rouse the returning inhabitants of Garreg Mach.

As they walked through the soft morning mist, chilling only their ankles, Byleth saw an unidentifiable shape jogging towards them. Her hand went instinctively to her sword, but Claude was laughing. “Oh Teach, don’t tell me you haven’t seen their morning routine yet?”

Byleth relaxed at the sound of Claude’s amused voice. No, she had no idea what he was talking about. When the shape came closer, cutting through the slight mist, she saw that it was Caspar, shirtless, carrying Linhardt over his shoulders while the younger man read, face impassive. How he could manage to read with all the jostling, Byleth couldn’t be sure.

“Mornin’ Linhardt, mornin’ Caspar.” Claude called to his brothers-in-arms. They weren’t close, but they were part of his army. Byleth held up a hand in greeting.

“Mornin’ Claude! Hiya, professor!” Caspar was all smiles, sweat dripping down his chin and cheeks a blushing mess.

“Hmm.” Linhardt hummed at them as they passed. It was to be understood as a greeting.

In Hilda’s bedroom, Byleth knew Marianne was sleeping soundly with her. Dimitri was whisked away by Dedue after their battle at Gronder. Although she couldn’t personally guarantee their safety, she knew they would survive.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Sothis sigh.

“So that’s it then? No more turning back time?”

Byleth smiled in answer.

“Well good! I was getting tired of living through the same seven years over and over.” And then she leaned back into her throne of stone, her face warming in a smile. “Well, I’ll be going back to sleep now. But I’m glad,” a yawn punctuated her sentence. “I’m glad that you finally found a reality you were… Happy with.” She drifted off, sleep claiming her as she slowly mended her own soul, until she was ready to converse with Byleth once more.

“Teach? Breakfast?” Claude smiled at her, a smile that finally reached his eyes.

Byleth nodded, brushing her hand against his as she walked past him. Yes, this was a reality worth saving, worth seeing to the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright, alright. If the story has a literal time god, I feel like a deus ex machina is a little bit forgivable. Still I have to apologize for the way I conceptualized this story. Byleth fixes it all, as usual. 
> 
> Thanks everyone for sticking it through with this story. I really appreciate all the comments and speculations and seeing the responses I was hoping for in funny and sad moments. Your readership made writing this fic worth it!


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